


𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐘𝐌𝐀𝐍 ~ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐘 (𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐔)

by OfficialDaddyMaylor (IAmDaddyMaylor)



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: 1970s Era Queen (Band), Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Darkness, Deacury, Entity, Fear, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Drug Use, Monsters, Nightmares, POV First Person, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Freddie Mercury, Sexual Content, Shy John Deacon, Smut, Time Travel, afraid, mature themes, scary shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 37,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24855280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmDaddyMaylor/pseuds/OfficialDaddyMaylor
Summary: Every culture has a story of a horrible monster. For this particular one, it's a certain man that fuels young children's nightmares, hides in dark corners, half opened closets, and underneath beds. He lurks within the shadows, messing with your mind and feeding off your fear and energy until eventually turning your whole world upside down, and haunting your memories forever.Queen bassist John Deacon was only eleven years old when his father died. Told by family that the cause of death was from a sudden heart attack, the quiet and shy young man seems to think otherwise as he was the only one to see what really happened on that tragic night all those years ago that left him severely traumatized. What he witnessed was the Boogeyman, a horrifying creature of darkness that devoured his father right in front of his eyes. Did it actually happen and is the Boogeyman real or did John make him up to cope with the loss? All the answers lie hidden within his childhood home, a place he must return to and face the chilling unanswered question...does the Boogeyman really exist?
Relationships: Freddie Mercury/John Deacon
Kudos: 14





	1. Intro + The Cast/Face Claims

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there. So I don't do these face claim thingys but I thought why the hell not. Welcome to The Boogeyman, an alternate universe horror Queen fanfic centered around John Deacon seen and told through his eyes. I'm going for first person point of view this time so wish me luck 'cuz I'm American and I've tried my best in studying the way he talks and thinks. XD 
> 
> Also this story contains Deacury and is Rated M for language, character death, sexual content, and other things, plus some scary shit. I own nothing but the idea. Enjoy.
> 
> P.S. I hope the gifs work for ya'll. :P This is also posted on Wattpad as well under the same name.

John Deacon as himself. Quiet, shy, and the youngest member of Queen, he suffers from PTSD due to a traumatic childhood event that has haunted him for years. 

*****

Freddie Mercury as himself, the flamboyant front man of Queen who loves the stage and the joy he brings to fans around the world. Off stage he is protective of John and understands his fears and tries to help him anyway he can.

^His leotard is literally falling off in that gif. XD

Oh my fucking god.... 🤤😲😁

  
*****

Brian May as himself, the guitarist of Queen as well as an Astrophysicist. He also loves all sorts of nerdy things. He's also aware of John's fears but tells him it's just his imagination and monsters, including the Boogeyman, aren't real. On occasion, he makes fun of him or tells him to grow up.

*****

Roger Meddows Taylor as himself, the short tempered blonde haired drummer of Queen. Just like Brian, he tells John monsters aren't real and it's all in his head, and sometimes even makes fun of him for it. 

*****  
AND THE REST:

Fairuza Balk as Julie Deacon, estranged younger sister of John.

*****

Joe Mazzello as a missing child who seeks out John to help him in solving the dark secret that has been haunting the bassist since childhood. **(sorry no gif)**

*****

Tim Curry as Arthur Henry Deacon, John's late father.

_"Look John, it's just a silly little story. He can't hurt you because he's not real, alright?"_

*****

Lorraine Bracco as Lillian Deacon, John's mother.

*****

Sissy Spacek as Veronica Tetzlaff, John's friend from childhood.

*****

Bill Skarsgård as Victor Tetzlaff, Veronica's brother.

*****

David Bowie as Dr. Newton, John's therapist.

_"Go on and spend just one night in that house. It will help..."_

*****

 **And the rest can be left to the imagination 'cuz this took way too damn long to make bye, LOL! XD See ya'll in the first chapter.** ❤


	2. Prologue: He's Not Real

*****

__

_Leicester, England  
_ _1962_

There's a storm brewing outside and I'm finding it very hard to sleep. I find it very hard to sleep in this bedroom every night actually. On nights when we get storms like this I become afraid. Each time lightning flashes through the night sky, it creates creepy images in my mind and makes me see things I don't wanna see in the dark corners of my bedroom. I don't like it one bit. The only thing giving me some form of comfort is my nebula ball at the foot of my bed. 

A sudden flash of lightning reveals a weird shape looming on my beside table and I look up only to realize it's my Crypt Keeper action figure that I left standing there. It's face is creepy in the darkness so I grab it and shove it into the bedside drawer, slamming it shut. **(A/N: I know Crypt Keeper was a thing of the 80s and 90s but I'm using it in this 'cuz I couldn't come up with creepy toys from the 60s.)**

I lay back down but something on my desk chair catches my eye. I know it's just my bathrobe and a pair of jeans but in the darkness it looks like a silhouette of a hooded figure sitting there waiting for me. 

_Don't be so stupid, it's nothing._

But I'm still not quite convinced so without taking my eyes off the chair, I pull open the same drawer I shoved the Crypt Keeper toy into and pull out my torch. I click it on and shine it in the direction of the chair just long enough to see it's only my clothes. But then as a flash of lightning lit up the night sky and a breeze entered my room from the open window, the torch died and the stuff on my chair, no longer my laundry was a dark hooded figure rising up. 

A scream catches in my throat and I began blindly pawing for the chain on my bedside lamp in a panic. Finally locating it, I quickly turn the lamp back on, and as light fills my room, the robe and my jeans were now on the floor. I stare at the heap of laundry in confusion. 

_They were just on the chair...and now they aren't. Why are they on the floor? Unless..._

Not wanting to think those thoughts, I sit up and throw aside my blanket. I slowly get out of bed and walk towards the pile of clothes. I pick them up, shoving them away into my dresser drawer, then I prop the chair up against the drawer. Why? I don't know but it gives me some form of comfort.

_CRASH!_

The lamp on my beside table suddenly falls to the floor and breaks, bathing my bedroom in what I fear the most. Darkness. My eyes widen, and I instantly become terrified as I stand completely still, my breathing erratic and unsteady. Thunder roars outside with another flash of lightning followed by a howl of the wind. Behind me, my closet door slowly opens with a creak and I turn just in time to see it open all the way. It's coming for me, I know it is. It took my brother Robert away when he was just six years old and now it's going to get me. 

Turning, I bolt for my bed and jump in, pulling the covers up to my head. If I hide it can't get me. Through the thin covers I see a dark shadow coming towards me. _No...please._ My heart pounds like crazy and squeezing my eyes shut, I hold my breath so it can't hear me. The covers are then yanked away from me and I let out a startled scream, not realizing it's just my father until I see his familiar head of poofy hair in the darkness.

"Oi now, what's going on in here?" he asks. "You alright, John?"

I swallow the nervous lump in my throat as I look at my father then back at the closet across the room.

He takes notice of my broken lamp on the floor. "Ah jeez, how'd this happen, huh?" he asks.

I don't answer him. 

"Well?" he asks, awaiting my answer. "Out with it, boy."

"H-H-He's here," I stutter.

He gives me a funny look as he picks up pieces of the broken lamp. "Who's here?"

"He came out of the closet," I tell him.

My father turns and looks over at the now closed closet door. "Don't be ridiculous John, there's nobody's here. What are you even on about?" He looks back at me, his mouth forming an O as he instantly knows what I'm referring to. "Oh...you mean _him_." He places my lamp back on the bedside table and sits down on the edge of my bed. "Look John, it's just a silly little story. He can't hurt you because he's not real, alright?"

"He took Robert away though," I whimper.

"John--" he begins, only to to be cut off by a loud rumble of thunder. "John, listen to me. We've discussed this several times. Robert died from an accident. He wasn't taken by anyone. He wasn't taken by _him_ because he's not real."

"But I swear I saw him in here!" I protest. 

He sighs. "Ok. Let's have a look around then, shall we?" He kneels down on the floor to check underneath my bed. "Nope, nothing under here."

He gets up and I watch as he moves around, checking behind things and looking in every corner of the room.

"Nothing over here, either," he says.

I point at the closet door and in a brief flash of lightning I see him grin as he walks towards the door and knocks on it.

"Hello!" he says in a silly sing song voice as he opens the door and steps inside.

Another flash of lightning shows him looking around inside the closet and I sit up, curious to see what he'll do next.

"Hmmm, how about that," he says as he walks out and stands with his back to the closet. "Nobody home. Just me, you, mum, and Julie."

He was just about to walk away when a dark shape of a hooded figure suddenly appeared behind him from the pitch black shadows of the closet.

"DAD!" I shriek in terror.

An arm of pure blackness grabs him and I watch helplessly as my father is yanked off his feet and pulled into the closet before he has a chance to even scream. _No!_ I gasp as the door slams shut and an eerie silence fills the room as I stare in horror at the closed door. 

"DAD?!" I scream out again. _Where's mum and Julie?! Why haven't they come in here?!_

As if in response to my scream, the door bursts open and my father flies out and hits the wooden floor so hard I feel my bed shake from the impact. He groans and begins to claw at the floor to try and get up but the thing still has a hold on him. In another flash of lightning from outside, I can see a look of pure terror in his eyes. Then he's quickly dragged back and my father grabs hold of the doorjamb with a fearful cry as he fights to save himself. Suddenly he gets hurled upwards and my hands fly to my ears as he's violently slammed into the top of the door frame, then back down to the floor, and back upwards, over and over again. _Please stop!_ Over his painful cries of agony, I can hear the crunching of bones, and then just like that, the thing pulls him back in, and the door slams shut as everything goes deathly quiet. 

Outside, the rain begins to fall and tears spill from my eyes as I hyperventilate and stare at the closet door, too scared to go near it. Then I hear quick footsteps from the hallway and my mother appears in the doorway.

"John?" she says. "Where's your father gone? Didn't he come in here?"

Unable to tell her what just happened, I start sobbing and point at the closed closet door.

"Why on Earth are you bloody crying?" she asks. "Arthur dear, you better not be scaring him with--"

And as she opens the closet door and turns on the overhead light bulb, bathing the small space with a dim light, she starts to scream and cry out my fathers name, and all I can do is sit there, watching as she cradles his body in her arms...  
  


*****

 **Haha have fun sleeping tonight.** 😜 **Anyways, see ya'll in the next chapter.** 😁


	3. Mama, I'm Gonna Be Your Slave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hey there, here's another for ya'll. Some naughty thoughts ahead, beware. ;) Enjoy and please excuse mistakes I don't catch in proofreading.❤❤❤

*****

_~15 Years Later~_

"You lovely bunch of darlings, you've all been wonderful tonight, thank you!" Freddie yells out to the large crowd. "Now then, we'd like to do a little number that was released--oh they already know it! Might as well get on with it. Here's Liar!"

 _Yes, I absolutely love this song!_ The crowds go wild and I smile at Fred's enthusiastic energy as he grabs the tambourine from the side, strutting across the stage to the beat of Roger's opening drums. I actually find it quite hot but also rather distracting. Him in his signature open chested black leotard with the studded crotch. _Hehehehe...hot damn._ He's worn it on purpose tonight. _Damn you, Freddie Mercury!_ In fact, he's worn it for almost every show this tour and he knows what it does to me...

With the drums continuing, I move around a bit as I play my notes and bop my head to Brian's guitar that joins in. Dancing in place helps me out somewhat and distracts me from my rather naughty thoughts about Freddie. I move back to my usual spot by the drum set and it's only then that I notice Freddie's leotard slipping from his shoulders, revealing more of his slim and tan body as he gets more into the song while banging that damn tambourine against his hip. _Oh Lord._ I focus on playing, trying my best to look anywhere but him. He does his usual thing with Brian, pretending the microphone stand is a guitar which I find a bit silly since he can't really play a real one.

Suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I see him heading in my direction again, and I make the mistake of holding eye contact with him as he faces me and starts to get a little suggestive with the microphone stand. _Fuck!_ I feel my cheeks redden, which Freddie notices. With a cheeky grin, he winks at me, then moves back to the center of the stage as he starts singing the opening lyrics. I continue strumming away, bopping my head and stomping my foot to the beat of the song, thankful to the gods above that my bass is big enough to cover my hard on tenting in these absurdly tight silk white bell bottoms. _Focus John, focus._

I do just that and continue to strum. _Yes, you can do this._ But of course, my gaze wanders over to Freddie yet again who's really into the song as he sings and struts, and my eyes land on his perfect arse in that tight leotard. _ShitShitShit! Come on Deacon, focus!_ I look away again, using the short time on one of Brian's guitar riffs to lick at my fingers to strum better, then I continue to jam out in place.

"Liar!" Freddie sings. "I have sailed the seas. Liar! From Mars to Mercury. Liar! I have drunk the wine..."

Feeling like I'm in my own little world, I move around some more, jamming along to Brian's solo, taking notice once again of how Freddie's really getting into the song with his leotard falling off. _Dammit._ I look away and down at my bass to hide my reddening cheeks as he struts over in my direction, banging and shaking the tambourine for a few moments until he moves back center stage and it's only then when I realize our moment is coming up.

"Listen!" he sings. "Are you gonna listen?"

Roger begins his cowbell solo and I move away from the drum set, readying myself for the moment I love so much to come. _Oh yes._

"Mama, I'm gonna be your slave!"

I come up behind Fred and lean down over his shoulder, the scent of him invading my nostrils. _Oh my bloody god, he smells so goddamn good._ "All day long!" I sing with him.

"Mama, I'm gonna try to behave!"

"All day long!" I sing out, closing my eyes.

"Mama, I'm gonna be your slave!"

"All day long!" _I'll be your slave, Fred--Hey come on now, focus!_

"And I'm gonna serve you til' your dying day!" **(A/N: In the above video, I swear I keep hearing "I'm gonna love you til' your dying day" but I can't find that lyric anywhere, wut?** 😐 ***confused Jackie Chan face*)**

I continue to sing along with the front man, enjoying the closeness of him as my heart pounds like crazy. Sometimes I feel like these moments bring us closer together. Freddie's someone I trust with my whole life as he's always been there for me and I consider him more than just a friend.

I sing the last few all day long's with him, and just like that, he's off across the stage again to do his thing. I go back to my spot by the drums and glance over in Roger's direction.

"You good, mate?" he silently mouths to me.

I nod and give him a small friendly smile. Only a few people, including Brian and Roger know that Freddie and I share something behind closed doors. I much prefer it that way, too. So does our front man. The whole world doesn't need to know that Freddie and I are a thing. Too many judgmental people out there and it also wouldn't look great on the band's image, considering the press and critics always constantly harass Freddie on his sexuality during interviews to the point where it visibly pisses Roger and Brian off.

But besides all that, what he does in his private time with other men and women is kept between us, and while he's not exclusively mine, which I don't mind, I'm just happy to be that someone he comes to at the end of the day... 

I stray away from my thoughts as my solo is about to come up. _Here we go._ I move center stage as Freddie moves past me with an encouraging smile, and I strum my heart and soul into what I do best. _Go John, go!_ My fingers ache but I don't care. This is what I love doing.

*****

"Thank you and goodnight!" Freddie announces.

God Save The Queen starts up, signalling the end of our performance, and while Freddie, Roger, and Brian all bow and wave to the audience and whatnot, I start heading backstage. I don't like waving and interacting with the crowd. It's not my thing. I hand off my bass to one of the roadies, who gives me a towel, and I head down the long stretch of hallway towards the dressing room with my head down. Others who pass by me are considerate to not stop me to talk. I don't like talking to people.

Finally I reach the dressing room, but something stops me in my tracks. My eyes widen to see that the light has been turned off. It was on when we left to go on stage. _Why is it off?_ _Who turned it off?_ It's completely pitch black. I don't like it. I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end with a sense of uneasiness, and I find myself suddenly rooted to the spot, afraid to move and all I can do is stare into the inky blackness as my mind starts to race and create images. _Stop it you bloody idiot, you're being delusional. It's nothing._

"You alright, mate?" a voice asks, and I suddenly jump in fright when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

I break my stare away from the pitch black dressing room only to see that it's just Roger.

"You're not about to get weird on us again, are you, Deaks?" he asks.

I blink and swallow the lump in my throat. "No...I'm fine."

The drummer gives me a teasing grin as he moves past me to walk into the dressing room, and I hold my breath when he takes a few moments too long to turn the light back on.

"Afraid of the dark, are we?" Brian teases me while moving past. 

_He's right, what a fucking cry baby you are._ I ignore the voice and teasing and walk into the room, going straight for the sofa where I left my water bottle. I feel my hands start to shake as I sit down and grab the bottle and take a large drink to keep my oncoming panic attack at bay. I don't want to have one. Not now. This isn't the time nor the place. _You're fucking pathetic, stop it!_ I ignore the intrusive thoughts and begin an internal calming mantra. _Breathe John...just breathe. Count to five. 1...2...3. Yes that's it. 4...5..._

"...Well done, darlings!" Freddie says, pulling me away from my thoughts as he comes sauntering into the dressing room, looking exhausted as ever but at the same time yummy with his leotard hanging halfway off his sweaty body. _Oh my._

"Are you boys going out tonight?" Jim asks. _When did he come in here?_

"Of course, Miami!" Freddie tells him. "After all, this is New York."

Roger and Brian pipe in their interest in going out for the night, but I don't listen as I'm suddenly focused on the tiled floor, my thoughts once again consuming me until I can no longer hear anything else in the room.

_What the fuck is wrong with you?_

"John?"

_Fucking little useless bitch, you can't do anything right._

"John?"

_Please stop..._

"Deaky?"

_He's dead because of you._

"Oi, Earth to John!" I hear Roger shout but it sounds distant.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and I gasp, the water bottle falling from my grasp and onto the floor as my gaze shoots up to Freddie standing over me with a concerned look on his face.

"What?!" I ask a bit too loud, causing him to jump back a bit in surprise, then I clear my throat, feeling a little guilty for shouting at him. "Sorry. What is it?" 

"I said are you coming with us?" he asks. "And why aren't you dressed yet?"

I blink in confusion and notice Freddie's already out of his stage costume and in his street attire. Roger and Brian are stood by the door, dressed and ready to go as well. _What the hell?_ How long have I been sitting here?

"I...I don't know," I say.

"Are you alright, darling?" he asks.

"Fred, he's been acting weird tonight," Roger pipes in.

"Yeah, real strange," Brian adds in.

_Shut up!_

"I'm fine!" I blurt out while standing up and going over to my bags.

"Jesus fuck, what's with you?" the drummer asks, his annoying voice going up a whole octave. _Arsehole._

"Roger, that's enough," Freddie says to him. "Leave him alone."

"Fine whatever, we'll just wait out here," the blonde huffs, and he and Brian disappear from the room.

Freddie turns to me as I start to undress out of my stage outfit. "You sure you're alright, darling?" he asks me again in a voice as soft as silk.

I nod with a reassuring smile. "Yes."

He stays standing a few seconds more, almost like he's not entirely convinced with my answer, until finally he smiles back. "Alright then. Finish up and then we can go."

He turns and walks out of the room, and I watch him leave before I resume in my task of getting dressed and repeating my calming mantra.


	4. She's Gone, John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Some minor drug use ahead. Also my knowledge of cocaine use comes from Bright Lights, Big City. :P I don't condone this shit, so please don't do it.
> 
> Proofread a bunch of times, enjoy. ❤

The nightclub is loud and packed inside and outside full of people out to have a good time. I don't remember the name of it since it was something Freddie picked out. I don't really care to know to either. Whatever he picks, I'm happy with the decision.

By the time we make it through the front doors, Freddie's already gone, and in the flicker of the neon strobe lights, I can see the tall silhouette of Brian and his distinctive head of curly hair that he loves so much and swears he will never cut it, just up ahead of the large crowd. I stay by Roger as I have a small favour to ask him once we get inside away from the prying eyes of others. 

At the entrance, I spot a small secluded corner, and reaching out, I grasp Roger's hand.

"Oi now, what's this?" I hear him say over the loud music.

I pull him towards the corner. "I need some."

He furrows his brow in confusion. "Some what?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Rog," I say. "I know you're holding and I want a little."

He sighs. "Deaks no--"

"Please?"

"Since when are you using?" he asks.

"Roger, please," I beg him. "I need it. Just this once, that's it."

His mouth sets into a hard line, and I can tell he's really thinking about it. I don't normally do this, but just this once, I feel like I really need it just to calm my own fucked up head. _You're more than just fucked up in the head._

_Sod off..._

"Fucking hell...fine," the drummer grumbles, digging into his pocket. "But don't let Bri or Freddie find out about this because if you do, they'll both kill me and then I'll beat your arse. Got it?"

"Yes," I say as he discreetly passes me a tiny portion wrapped in some plastic. "That's it?"

He raises his hands. "Yes, that's the rest of what I had. I gave Freddie some on the way over here."

I nod in understanding anyway, even though I can tell he's lying his arse off. I know he's loaded, but I decide not to press on the issue. _Stingy bastard._

"Right, you're on your own, mate," he says. "Use it wisely."

"Thanks Rog," I say and he walks away, leaving me alone in the corner.

I make a beeline for the men's washroom at the end of the poorly lit hallway, which is surprisingly empty considering the whole place is packed. The music vibrates through the walls and floor as I lean up against the counter and stare at my reflection in the mirror, almost unable to recognize the sad looking long haired man with greyish green eyes staring back at me. I'm so bloody tired and too young to feel like this. _Lord, what are you doing to me?_

Making sure the coast is clear, I open up the packet to see that there's just enough for maybe two or three snorts. I don't know much about this stuff, or even how to use it, but I have seen the way Freddie uses it. So it can't be that difficult. _My god, you're a fucking idiot._

I tap the plastic for just the tiniest amount onto the back of my hand, then stow away the rest into the pocket of my jacket. I stare at the white powdery substance for a moment, contemplating if I should really go through with this. _Just do it. Everyone else is._ I sigh. Well here goes nothing. I bring my hand up under my nose and sniff it, my nostril burning a bit from snorting it. _Whoa._ I rub my nose and allow myself a few seconds to get use to whatever this feeling is. I suddenly hear voices approaching the washroom, so very quickly I wash my hands, then brush past the people coming in who thankfully don't recognize me, and I decide to go in search of Freddie. _Yeah, go find your little faggot of a boyfriend._

I ignore that thought and squeeze my way through the crowds towards the bar area in hopes that either Freddie or the other two will be there, but they're not. _Oh well._ I order a few drinks and just decide to watch the people on the dance floor and those coming and going, and soon I can feel the effects of the cocaine in my system. It feels calming and my thoughts are no longer intrusive or jumbled together, but it's also making me feel tired.

"Having fun, John?" I hear a voice ask over the music.

I look over and see it's just Jim. "Yeah, Miami," I say with a smile.

He seems a little surprised to hear me using his nickname since Freddie's the only one who really calls him that. _Oh fuck, can he tell I'm on something?_

"You seem not yourself tonight, is there something going on?" he asks.

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"Well the boys told me what happened after the performance and I just wanted to know if you're ok."

_Bastards._ "Yeah, I'm fine," I tell him and take a sip of my drink. "Just tired is all."

"Would you like a lift back to the hotel?" he offers.

I shake my head. "The hotel isn't far, I might just walk for the fresh air."

He doesn't seem to like that idea but he doesn't object to it. "Alright then, mate. But just so you know, if there's anything bothering you, I'm here to talk."

"Thanks."

He smiles. "Anytime."

*****

After a few more drinks, I let Jim know I'm leaving to go back to the hotel. He again offers me a lift but I decline. I have no idea of the time when I leave. I just know it's late. The night air is chilly as I walk up the dim lit street of New York City. There's still a number of people out and about who thankfully don't recognize who I am. I don't like being the center of attention. That's probably why Jim offered me a lift. I would've accepted but I need to clear my head and get over whatever that was I went through after the performance. I don't know what was with me tonight, except the room was dark. _Darkness. Bad news._

I don't like the dark. I'm absolutely terrified of it and have been ever since I was a child. I don't like closets either, and the combination of those two is unbearable. I hate that the guys had to witness that tonight. It's bad enough Roger and Brian always tease me for it by telling me it's all in my head and that I should just grow up. If they were in my shoes, they'd understand. Freddie's the only one who understands me and knows what I've been through, and that's why I've fancied him ever since I joined the band...

Keeping my eyes on the sidewalk ahead, I suddenly notice a city utility door in a brick wall marred with various posters and handbills of movies, concerts, and Broadway shows come and gone. Amidst it, I see a poster announcing our current Day At The Races world tour and I can't help the little smile that plays out on my lips. My eyes then wander to an old missing child's poster, the headline 'Have You Seen This Boy?' written in bold lettering across it and I notice the poor lad, who looks to be no more than ten years old, has been missing since 1960. I can't imagine what it must be like for the parents but I know losing a child is a horrible thing. After all, my own parents went through it.

_Stop it, John._

I shake my head of those thoughts and as I'm about to continue on with my walk, I notice the utility door is open. _Wasn't that closed before?_ That shouldn't be open. Not this late in the night. I look around. The streets are bright and I can hear the distant sounds of laughter and excitement from the people out and about. I look back at the door and see nothing but shadow. I swallow the nervous lump in my throat. There's something not quite right about this, I just know it. 

I look up and down the sidewalk, hoping someone will notice it, but the handful of people I can see wandering the streets don't seem to be paying any attention to it. I take one step closer towards the door, thinking maybe I should just close it myself, but decide against it. _It's just an open door, walk past it for fuck sake._

I go to turn and that's when I hear something over all the sounds of the city. A low groaning noise coming from the open door. I freeze as a shiver runs down my spine. _There's something in there._ I turn to look. All I see is infinite darkness. Then I hear the groaning noise again but this time it sounds more like a disembodied growl. _Oh no._ I stare at the open doorway and see something standing there. Dark, indistinctive, and shadowy. 

_Nonsense, he can't be real,_ I tell myself. _There's no such thing. Just keep walking._

I turn around again and push myself to keep walking, willing myself not to look back.

_You better watch yourself, Johnny boy. And next time, don't drink so much and mix it with cocaine. Hallucinations are a bad thing._

No one's ever called me Johnny. Even as a child I've always just been John by family and friends, and it wasn't until joining Queen in '71 that they started calling me Deaky or Deaks. But what I suddenly find strange is this voice that called me Johnny sounded a little like my father. Or rather a cross between my own voice and his voice. His voice from when I was a child. Sometimes I wonder if he were still around, would we sound alike?

*****

The hotel lobby is relatively empty, save for a few of our road crew hanging out and talking with one another. Some wave to me as I pass by. I nod my head in recognition and keep moving towards the lift before they decide to stop me to talk. The lift seems to take forever to arrive and I feel myself getting antsy and impatient. _Come on now._ Finally the doors open and I'm thankful it's empty of any passengers. I step inside and the doors close.

*****

Thanks to Freddie, the lights were still on as was the telly in the living area, which was turned down low even though I could still hear it from the doorway. 

The suite is beautiful, and I wish we could stay here forever but we're only in New York City for another couple of days before we have to travel to the next big city for the tour. Freddie and I are sharing this room after suggesting on saving money, but I know he just wanted me with him. The room has an antique feel to it. Another reason why Freddie picked it out. He's got wonderful taste. White chaise lounges sat on each side of the living area with a white marble coffee table in the middle. Beneath it was a Persian rub covering most of the oakwood coloured floor. There was even a small kitchenette with only just a table big enough for two, a mini fridge, and a microwave oven.

The bedroom is quite nice as well. Two queen sized four poster antique beds, a marble topped vanity dresser, which was currently cluttered with Freddie's makeup and various bottles of cologne. Framed paintings hug on the walls. In between the beds was a bedside table that held the telephone, a book for hotel directory and nearby restaurants, and a digital clock radio that gave the time as 2am.

And lastly, there was a closet door, slightly open. A chill ran down my spine, and I gripped onto the doorjamb of the bedroom until the moment passed and I found the courage to enter the room and switch on the overhead light beside my bed. I felt a bit better, but the room was still full of shadows with plenty of places for things to hide, including that bloody closet. Grabbing the chair from the vanity, I pull it over to the open door and shut it, then place the chair in front of it. _John Deacon 1, monsters 0._ I giggle at my own stupid little joke and head to the adjoining bathroom to brush my teeth and take another small hit of the cocaine.

Back in the bedroom, I go through my usual nighttime routine that I always do on both tour and at home. Nothing under the beds, closet door still closed with the chair propped up against it. Nothing out of the ordinary. I strip down to a loose t-shirt and boxer briefs, and place my discarded clothes on the vanity chair, then sit down on the edge of my bed, contemplating whether to sleep in mine or Freddie's as his smells quite nice and the thought of him coming in late and cuddling me has me excited. _Jesus fuck, sleep in your own bed, John._

*****

_Dammit_. It looks like sleep isn't happening tonight. Above me, the lamp still burns as I can't find it in myself to turn it off. I feel too tense and on edge like something's about to happen, but I don't know what exactly. I should be exhausted but there's too many shadows. _You're just paranoid._ I check the time on the bedside clock. 4am. _Fuck me. Come on, sleep goddammit!_ I sigh. I hate this bullshit. I hate not being able to fucking sleep.

After what feels like a long stretch of time, I hear the doorknob to the bedroom start to turn, and not wanting to be caught wide awake by Freddie while panicking over nothing, I quickly shut the overhead lamp off and turn on my side with my back to the door. I feign sleep with heavy breathing and my eyes closed, listening to the shuffling of clothes being taken off as the scent of his cologne invades my senses. A moment later, I feel the bed shift under his weight as he climbs in beside me. _Oh._ A pair of arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against a warm chest, and two hands slip underneath my t-shirt, fingers rubbing slow circles on my stomach, gradually inching their way down towards the waistband of my boxers. _Ahh._ I feel my heart rate skyrocket as my cock twitches in my boxers. 

Shifting, I turn over and move closer to Freddie's warmth. "I missed you," I murmur, my voice husky.

Freddie doesn't answer, which is a bit unlike him. He's quite talkative when in the mood which I find sexy.

"Freddie?"

Still no answer. I frown. Something isn't right. Reaching up, I turn on the overhead lamp, and jump out of bed in sheer terror, away from what I'm seeing that couldn't possibly be real. I land on the floor, my back against the wall as I stare up in horror of who I recognize on the bed. _No._

She was in her late fifties, only she looked way older and she was wearing a drab hospital gown. Her once beautiful raven hair was now stringy and greasy, and her face was wrinkled around tired looking light brown eyes. Her arms were covered in bloody bandages.

"Mum?"

But it couldn't be. There's no way she's here in New York. This can't be real. This isn't my mum. She started to speak and I feel sheer terror grip me as she opens her mouth, revealing blood covered teeth.

"John?" she says, climbing out of the bed towards me. "Where are you going? You can't keep running away from me."

It was her voice, but there's no way that's my mum. This is just a hallucination. A very bad one. _Freddie help me._ I can't find it in me to speak or scream, and I feel like I can't breathe. I'm being suffocated by my own fear. _Oh god, look away._

"Look at me when I am talking to you," she says.

_No!_

"Why won't you look at me, John?" she asks, taking a step towards me. "Look at your mum."

_Please go away._

"John Richard Deacon, look at me when I am speaking to you!" she commands, clapping her hands together loudly. "Now!"

I squeeze my eyes shut and start to shake in fear to her tone and begin to wish for all of this to go away. But then I felt her cold hands on my face, trying to pry my eyes open.

"Look...at...me!" she growls. "You're a bad little boy. A faggot not worth loving."

_Freddie, where are you?! Please help me!_

"It's all your fault."

_NO!_

"John."

I gasp out a quivering breath, ignoring the voice and try to count but my voice isn't working.

"You've been a bad boy!" 

_Please._

"Look at me!"

_Stop it._

"Deaky?"

That voice sounds like Freddie's, not my mum. I feel another pair of hands on my face, and I open my eyes and scream in terror as I pull away. 

"Hey, hey, hey shhhh!" Freddie says. "Darling, it's just me!"

I choke out a gasp as a pair of arms wrap around me and pull me into a warm body. Freddie's body.

"Shhh, I'm here, everything's alright," he says in a soft voice, rocking me back and forth in his lap, and it's then that I notice he's in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. "You're alright. I'm right here, darling."

I wrap my arms around him and blow out a shaky breath, willing my heart rate to slow, and I glance around the room to see that my mum is gone. 

"My word, you're sweating up a storm," he says. "Let's get you back in bed."

He stands up with me in his arms and sets me down on the bed.

I feel like something's not right. "I...I need to g-go," I stutter.

Freddie gives me a look of confusion. "Go? Go where? It's late, you need to get some sleep. Take this off."

He attempts to pull my t-shirt off, but I push him away from me and stand from the bed.

"John, what--"

The shrill ring of the telephone on the bedside table interrupts him, and ignoring his protests of getting back into bed, I go over and answer it.

"Hello?"

_"Yes, this is Dave from hotel reception, I have someone on the other line who says they need to speak to you and it's very urgent."_

"Put them through," I say to him.

_"Yes sir."_

"Deaky, what's going on?" Freddie asks.

_"John?"_

"Julie?" I ask, surprised to be hearing from her.

_"John it's--"_

"Who are you talking to?" Freddie asks, loud enough to where I can barely hear my sister.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" I ask, missing something that sounded important. "What happened?"

Julie repeated herself and suddenly my whole world came crashing down on top of me.

_"It's mum. She's gone, John..."_


	5. You Have To Face Your Fears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to question my own sanity in writing this, like holy fucking shit, how the hell do I come up with this stuff? 😅 Anyways enjoy and please excuse mistakes I don't catch in proofreading. ❤

*****

My mind in a complete whirl, I grab my clothes from the vanity chair and start to dress, replaying what Julie told me over the phone, over and over again in my mind. _"Mum's dead. She committed suicide..."_

"Deaky darling, what's going on?" Freddie asks me. "Where are you going?"

"Leicester," I say as I brush past him to throw things into my bag. "I-I need to go home."

"We're on tour, you can't just leave! Darling, please tell me what's going on!"

"I...I can't," I say. "I'm sorry, Freddie."

"You can. You know you can tell me anything."

I shake my head as I continue to pack things into my bag.

"John, please look at me!" he pleads.

I freeze to that familiar command and slowly turn to look at Freddie, looking at me with desperation on his beautiful face. If the situation were different, I'd find him alluring standing there shirtless in his tight boxer briefs with his hair a mess.

"What happened, darling?" he asks. "Who was that on the phone?"

"My mum, she--" I trail off, my voice shaky and my breathing uneven. _No, I'm going to have a panic attack, I can't do this._

"She what?" he pushes further. "What's wrong?"

My hands start to shake. He takes notice. _It's all your fault._

"Darling, you're scaring me. Take a deep breath."

_You're a disgusting little faggot!_

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I rage at the voices, pulling at my hair and scratching at my face.

"Deaky, stop hurting yourself!" Freddie cries out, grabbing at my arms as I try to fight against him, but he's much more stronger than me. "Stop it!"

Full blown sobs wrack my body as he pulls me into him and embraces me. I can't fight him. All I can do is wail and cling to him. _Pathetic little weak bitch._

"It's alright darling, Freddie's here," the front man says in a soft soothing voice, holding me close. "Freddie's here..."

*****

Despite Jim and Freddie's protests, I left anyway after giving them the location I'd be staying at in Leicester. At this point, I could care less about the tour. I know I'm horrible for saying that, but there will be plenty of others. Missing a couple of shows isn't the end of the world, but according to Freddie though, it obviously is. Even after my little episode when I told him my mum was dead from committing suicide, he insisted on waiting a bit before going home. He begged me to stay. I can't do that, I just can't.

I still couldn't wrap my fucked up head around it all. _"Mum's dead. She committed suicide..."_ The institution she had been living in these last ten years had recently telephoned my sister, informing her that our mum's mental health was declining rapidly. Mum's been not the same since our father died. Shortly after his death, she changed completely. She was no longer the same person after that, and the family was worried for Julie and I's well being so we moved in with our aunt and uncle. Mum went into a complete psychotic breakdown and was moved into a mental institution. From that point on, we only saw her on birthdays, holidays, and the occasional weekend.

*****

After landing in Heathrow, I took a taxi cab ride to my flat to pick up my car and began the two and a half hour journey out to Leicester. My jumbled thoughts replayed over and over in my mind as I tried desperately to think of the times when my mum was happy, back when she had lovely raven hair and a beautiful face, but all I could see was her face from the night before. All wrinkly and sad looking with blood on her teeth and bloody bandages on her arms.

*****

The Leicester Children's Institution looks the same as it's always been. Drab and dark against the grey overcast day. The inside looked different. The walls used to be all white, but were now painted in calming pastel colours of baby blue and light pink. This place was practically my boyhood home, my safe haven. This was where I had learned the word "scotophobia." Fear of the darkness as Dr. Newton would put it. He diagnosed me with a bunch more other phobia words but scotophobia was what I remembered the most. My list of fears is endless. Afraid of the dark, thunderstorms, shadows, closets. Most of all, afraid of the Boogeyman.

I remember I had been either six or seven and spoke that name to Dr. Newton for the first time. His face, I'll never forget it. I expected him to laugh like my parents would, but instead his face showed a soothing understanding. He had held my gaze for a moment and I took the time to look into his two different coloured eyes, thinking and wanting to ask him if he was some sort of super being, but that moment had passed when he looked down and scribbled something on his notepad.

He didn't say anything like _"there's no such thing as the Boogeyman"_ or any of the other phrases I was so used to hearing from adults. He had accepted it and helped me talk about it. And even after being shut out by family every time I mentioned the dark man had killed my father and brother, he still understood. Of course eventually as a young teen, he tried to persuade me that the Boogeyman didn't exist. He couldn't let me go into adulthood thinking some mythical creature had killed my father and taken my older brother.

_"You can't go on living in fear,"_ he had told me.

"John," Dr. Newton says, pulling me away from my reverie. "Parents tell these things to their children all the time to scare them into behaving. They don't mean to frighten them. Parents want their children to know actions have consequences by telling them this monster or that monster will come and take them away if they don't do what they're told to do. My parents did the same thing to me. I just laughed it off. Parents expect you to be scared, but as time goes on and we get older, we realize it's not real."

"And I'm old enough now," I say.

He nods in agreement. "That you are. But your fears mixed in with one another. In your case, it was your father's sudden heart attack. Your young mind couldn't comprehend what was happening, so you chose what you feared the most: the Boogeyman appearing out of the dark closet and killing him. I agree he died a horrible death, but it wasn't the Boogeyman. He had a heart attack. He was born with a congenital heart defect, wasn't he?"

_But you weren't there that night to see what I saw._

I ignore the voice and nod. "Yes, something like that. He had these pills he took everyday."

"And your brother Robert wasn't taken by him. He drowned in a bathtub."

"Yes."

Silence followed our last words as we walked along the long stretch of hallway. I take my time to study him. Dr. Thomas Jerome Newton. His hair was red with streaks of grey in front. He now wore glasses and still looked young and radiant. One would think he's in his twenties but he's actually in his late forties. His different coloured eyes haven't changed a bit and his mannerisms still radiated calmness. Just being in his presence made me tons more better.

As we walk into the playroom, a few children looked up in our direction before resuming in their tasks of colouring, playing with toys, or doing puzzles. It suddenly brought back memories of when I spent time in here, meeting new friends and playing games.

"So the funeral's tomorrow?" he asks.

"Yes, tomorrow afternoon."

"I'm so terribly sorry," he says.

His empathy was quite genuine. One of the things I like about him. He's always someone I could trust.

Slowly walking around the room, I watch as a young girl draws a house with a chimney with smoke curling out the top. It reminds me of my old house.

"I'm thinking of visiting the old house," I say to Dr. Newton as we move along the table of children.

"Really?"

I nod. "Yes. My sister and our uncle have been fixing up the place so I thought I'd check it out," I explain.

I felt a sudden tap on my arm, and looking down, the same little girl who had been drawing the house with the chimney was offering it to me.

Dr. Newton smiles. "It looks like she wants you to have it."

I smile and bend down to the little girls level as she gives me the paper. "Thank you," I tell her.

"What's your name?" she asks in a tiny voice.

"John. What's yours?"

The little girl looks up at Dr. Newton, unsure.

"It's alright, he's a good friend," he tells her.

"Laura," she tells me. "You have long hair like a girl."

I chuckle. "Is that a bad thing to have long hair?"

She giggles and covers her mouth. "I don't know."

She goes back to her seat and I stand up, studying the picture she gave me, suddenly realizing it looks a bit creepy with the odd looking figures drawn next to the house. _It's just a children's drawing, John. It can't hurt you._

Dr. Newton moved on, and I follow him back out into the colourful pastel hallway.

"I haven't been to the house in such a long time," I admit. "I'm terrified something horrible will happen the second I step foot in there."

"You have to face your fears," he tells me. "You've let your fears get in the way of your music career and your personal life. John, things happened in that house, but they weren't supernatural. There's nothing in there but old memories."

I try to think of something to say in response to that but nothing came to mind because deep down, I knew he was right. But another part of my mind wanted to tell him he wasn't there the night it happened. He didn't witness what happened to Robert or my father.

"You dealt with Robert's death and your father's death the best way you could," he says to me. "But you were two and eleven, and now you're a grown man. It's time to move on. These fears you have are only going to get worse and worse unless you face them. You've been coming here for what, almost twenty years now? Take a look around you, John. There's only children here."

I knew he was right. I'm too old to continue seeing a child psychologist for this.

"I just want to get better," I tell him. "I want a normal life where I can be happy."

He smiles. "Then you know what you have to do. Go back to where it all started. Go on and spend just one night in that house. It will help."

_"Dr. Newton to observation!"_ a voice announces over a PA system.

He put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, I have to go now. Just one night and you'll see. The only monster is the one you manifested in your mind."

And then he walked away, leaving me to stand in the middle of the long hallway as other various workers passed by me. The PA crackled again, but I barely hear it over the voice in my head.

_You hear that Johnny Boy? It's all in your fucked up head and there's only one way to settle this. Are you ready to grow the fuck up now and be a man?_

I stood alone in the quiet empty for a moment, willing myself to leave this place once and for all and never look back, but I felt safe here. _Leave John._ At last, my feet obeyed my head, and turning, I made my way to the nearest exit when a terrified, ear piercing scream broke the silence, catching my attention. I stop and look around for any nearby nurses or orderlies, but there's no one. The screaming continues, so I follow it to a room that looks like a traditional hospital room with colourful cartoon character wallpaper. There on the bed, a little girl thrashed around wildly like a cornered animal, her blue eyes wide with a look of pure terror.

"Hey now, it's alright," I say to her, trying to soothe her as I slowly approach her bedside, but my presence seemed to only make things worse, which worried me that she could possibly hurt herself with the way she was thrashing about. "It's alright," I repeat over her screams. I turn towards the doorway. "Oi! We need some help in here!" I call out.

The girl continued thrashing and screaming, worrying me even more for her well being that she'll seriously injure herself if someone didn't get here soon. Then I spot the nurse call button by her bedside and dash over to press it.

"Take it easy," I say to her softly. "The nurses will be here in a moment. It's alright."

For a moment, I thought my calming words worked when she suddenly stopped thrashing and went completely still, but her gaze was now fixed on something over my shoulder with fear still etched on her sweat drenched face.

"What is it?" I ask her. "What's wrong?"

But she gave me no answer. Her screaming had stopped, but her mouth hung open as she made little whimpering noises that soon turned to choking noises with her wide eyed gaze still fixed on something over my shoulder.

I turn and look, only seeing the wall with cartoon characters. "There's nothing there. What do you see?"

And as I asked that question, I heard a sound move behind me that sounded like claws going up the wall and across the ceiling, and looking up again, my gaze lands on a spot in the ceiling where the white tile was loose and slightly open, giving off a shadowy gap where a pair of tiny red eyes glared down at me. _What the hell?_

I look back over at the little girl, the poor thing now shivering and shaking uncontrollably as foam formed at the corners of her mouth, dripping down her chin, her eyes as wide as saucers to the thing in the ceiling. I then realized she was having some sort of seizure, and before I could call out for help again, nurses rush into the room, pushing me aside to get to her.

"She was screaming, so I..." I try to explain, but no one listens to me.

"Prepare a syringe, she's having a seizure!" one of the nurses shout.

More nurses and orderlies crowd around her, and I watch as one puts a bite plate into her mouth while another brings out a syringe with a terrifying large needle. I look away. I don't like needles. Instead of looking down though, I look back up at the dark shadowy gap in the ceiling, but there's nothing there now.

"Can you hear me, Odessa?" I hear one of the nurses say, and I look back at her, our eyes locking. "You're alright. Deep breaths...yes that's it. Good girl."

Her shuddering had now stopped, but her blue eyes still showed that fear as she held my gaze as if she were communicating with me through telekinesis. I could hear a little girls voice, clear as day in my mind.

_I saw it, too,_ it says. _We both saw the exact same thing_. _We saw him..._

*****

**Hold me, I'm scared.** 😅


	6. I Love You, Mum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is depressing as fuck, but I promise it will get better and more juicy later on. 
> 
> Proofread a bunch of times, enjoy. ❤

It was now the next day. I was tired and barely slept as today was my mum's visitation viewing and funeral, and also the day I would be returning to my childhood home for the first time in years. I was beyond scared, but like Dr. Newton had told me, I needed to move on from the past and face my fears. 

*****

Noon rolled around as I pulled up outside the funeral home. The sky overhead grey with chances of rain, I stared up at the old brick building before me, taking in it's impressive structure of intricate carved white columns and Greek revival style. The few neighboring buildings around it were small compared to the funeral home, consisting of only a bank, a florist shop, liquor store, laundromat, and a petrol station on the corner. 

Finally summoning up my courage, I got out of my car and walked past a group of people who turned to look at me as I walked up. Some I recognized as distant relatives I hadn't seen for a long time, but I didn't stop to talk. I'm not really up for condolences or sympathy today.

Inside, a sickly sweet aroma of flowers hung in the air. I met with the funeral director who was a sharply dressed man in his late thirties, shook hands with some family, who were surprised to see me since I was supposed to be on tour with Queen, and hugged my aunt and uncle. I briefly wondered where Julie was until they told me she had already been here and was waiting at the cemetery. After they left, I was now alone in the viewing room, approaching her for the first time in what felt like forever. Her casket was quite beautiful. Dark wood mahogany surrounded in roses, her favorite flowers. The open lid showed white velvet lining on the inside.

A part of me almost didn't want to look, afraid she'd look the way she did the other night in the hotel room, but I told myself that it was all my imagination. I approached slowly, keeping my gaze on my black dress shoes that had been polished to perfection. Finally I was stood before the casket and forced myself to look up, still half fearing that I would see her as she appeared the other night, but instead she was absolutely beautiful. She was dressed in a white long sleeved ivory satin Victorian nightgown, one that I recognized to be her favorite that she always wore to bed when I was a child. Her raven dark hair had been styled, her face made up nicely with her hands crossed over her chest. It looked as if she were just taking a nap. _A nap she'll never wake up from._

Swallowing down the sudden rush of emotions, I put my hand down on the edge of the casket and lowered my head.

"I love you, mum..."

*****

A brief rain started as I left the funeral home and drove with the line of cars following the hearse to the cemetery, and by the time we arrived, it had stopped. The cemetery was dotted with puddles and headstones that were still wet and dark. There seemed to be about four or five dozen people here, some of which I didn't recognize, and some I did recognize. A lot recognized me, knowing I was the son of Lillian Molly Deacon and offered handshakes and hugs, which I accepted. 

Everyone who was here all wore dark clothes, several of which also held umbrellas just in case the rain decided to make an appearance again. And then there was my younger sister Julie who wore a simple black dress with matching gloves and black hat with a mesh veil around it. We had a brief greeting and an exchange of words as we weren't exactly close. Never have been.

Gathered around the casket, I stood in between my aunt and uncle while Julie stood on the opposite side with her head down and hands held together in front of her.

Next to me, my uncle looked uncomfortable in his suit which I don't blame him as I felt the same way. I've never been a suit guy myself. I always wear bell bottoms and silk shirts and stage costumes with platform shoes. A typical rock star life. 

"...ashes to ashes. Dust to dust," I hear the priest say. 

The priest looked as grey as the overcast sky with grey thinning hair and a grey tone to his wrinkled skin, and if his long black cassock was any other colour, he probably would've blended entirely right into the overcast sky as well. He gave a short service back at the viewing and even seemed genuine when expressing his condolences to me in private, but his words felt forced like that of a stage actor repeating the same lines day after day.

He droned on in his speech, and my mind began to wander as I half listened. I knew the words were important to others, but to me it just became background noise. It wasn't going to bring my mum back to life or make this situation any better. It would've been better if Freddie, Brian, and Roger were here with me. Things however got heated when I packed up to leave and I have a strong feeling I may not even be a part of the band anymore once I go back to the United States. Freddie's face was a picture of pure panic when I walked out that hotel room with him practically naked and running after me down the hallway, and his shouting caught the attention of the entire floor.

 _"We have shows and interviews tomorrow, you can't leave!"_ he had told me.

_"It's just for a couple of days Freddie, it's not the end of the world!"_

_"Deaky! Please don't go!"_

And by that time, Roger, Brian, and Jim had come out of their rooms to see what all the commotion was about and I gave them the same explanation. Roger and Brian looked pissed, said I was fucking everything up. Jim understood but he said I needed to stay as we had a job to do. 

_"I'm sorry, but family comes first,"_ I had told them.

And I left, leaving behind a distraught Freddie.

Off across the cemetery, something caught my attention. I look up and see it's a little boy, who looks no older than ten, standing underneath a tree. He was oddly dressed for the chilly weather, wearing a grey and red striped t-shirt, khaki shorts, a light baby blue jacket, and finally white sneakers with socks. Around his neck looked to be a dark blue bandanna. His short hair was light brown and wavy, his face serious. He held my gaze for a moment before he turned and walked away. **(A/N: I'm sure you all know who that little boy was. 😁)**

My uncle nudged me with an elbow, bringing me back to the now. "You're supposed to throw in some dirt," he whispers. "Julie already did, now it's your turn."

I had been told about this part, but I ended up getting distracted from my own thoughts and the mysterious little boy. I squatted down and scooped up a handful of dirt, then stepping towards the hole where my mum's casket was being lowered into, I gently tossed it in.

When the service was over, the guests quickly dispersed as it looked like another round of rain was about to start. Julie hugged me goodbye with a few kind words and simply left, and I walked out with my aunt and uncle.

"Thank you for doing all this," I tell them since they had done all the planning and organizing. 

"Well she was my sister," my uncle says. 

"I'm sorry I haven't been around more," I say.

He smiles and ruffles my hair. "Ah, don't feel bad. You're a rock star now. But I'm glad you were able to make it. So, are you heading back to your tour tonight?"

 _Face your fears. It's now or never._ "No I was actually thinking of staying another night. In the old house."

He shot me a look of surprise. "I thought you were afraid of being in that house."

"I was as a child. It's just a house."

I wasn't going to go into any detail and tell him about my visit to Dr. Newton and that it was his idea for me to stay the night in the house. _It's a just house. It can't hurt you._ If I told myself that enough times then maybe I'll be able to move on from all of this. 

"It's a mess though," he says. "We've been doing a lot of work on the inside and there's some people coming to look at it in a few days."

"I won't mess with anything," I say.

My mind was made up. I wanted to do this now if my uncle was planning on selling the place. I can't very well wait until it's sold and some family moves in, and I show up one night asking to stay the night just to see if the Boogeyman was real. I'd be placed in an institution so fast. If I don't do it now, I'll never get better and never be able to escape the things I saw.

Before he was able to respond, I spot a young woman I hadn't noticed during the service. She was quite lovely, with long strawberry blonde hair, bright green eyes, and a freckled face. She was slowly guiding a tall young man along while using hand signals. His gaze then drifted away from her and he turned and looked over in my direction for a few seconds before turning back. **(A/N: I would have a gif for this 'cuz I love Bill Skarsgård, but my PC is a piece of shit and won't save it. :P)**

"Is that Veronica and Victor Tetzlaff?" I ask, immediately recognizing the fraternal twin siblings.

My uncle followed my gaze. "Yeah. How long has it been since you've spoken?"

"Long time."

"Veronica's taking care of Victor now," he says. "Parents didn't want to deal with him anymore. You should go say hi, I'm sure she'd love to see you."

I shake my head as I was quite tired and sort of had enough on socializing for one day. "Maybe I will tomorrow," I suggest. "They still live across the field?"

He nods as I walk with him towards his vehicle where my aunt is waiting. Reaching it, I search for something to say but nothing would comes to my blank mind, except one word.

"Thanks again," I say.

"No problem," he says. "Oh umm, you may want to sleep in your old room. It's the only place in the house that hasn't been torn apart yet."

I nod, and we give each other a brief stiff hug before turning away.

"Oi, wait a second," he says after me, and turning back, I watch as he fishes out a key from his pocket. "You'll need this to get in."

I smile and take the key from his outstretched hand.

"It was good seeing you again, John," he says. "We've all missed you...and we're real proud of you."

Turning back around, he climbed into his car with my aunt and drove off, and I watch as the man and woman who raised me disappear into the gloomy day...


	7. Welcome Home, Johnny Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, another chapter so soon? ;) So anyway, I think the rest of these chapters (I don't know how many are left) are all going to take place in one whole night, so get ready for one crazy ride full of scary shit, action and steamy smut 'cuz a bit of a spoiler, yeah Freddie's gonna be returning, hehehe. XD

My old childhood home was some miles out, past all the busy city life in the countryside surrounded by farmland. I haven't been out here in so long but I recognized the road that I was driving on, recognized the old barns and houses as I passed by. Some abandoned, some still occupied with families. The radio was playing softly in the background as I drove and listened to a newly released song from our good friend David Bowie that the current station was playing, and for once I finally felt relaxed in what seemed like forever. Maybe just being away from the tour for a few days is best.

"We can be heroes, just for one day," I sang along softly to myself.

I was lost in the music and thinking of congratulating David on the new album once getting everything sorted out, only paying attention to the road ahead when suddenly something big and black crashes into the windshield, startling me and causing me to swerve towards an oncoming semi truck coming from the opposite way. My fast reflexes kick in and I immediately jerk the wheel back to the other side of the road and to the shoulder, away from the truck. The trucks horn blares as it goes past and I slam on my brakes, trying to process what just happened while trying to slow my heart from beating so bloody fast. _Don't be having a sheer heart attack now, Johnny Boy._

"Fucking hell," I grumble, rubbing my hands over my tired face.

Nearby horses in the field to the left of me whinnied from all the commotion that had just taken place on the quiet countryside lane. I was quite shaken and my heart still pounded away inside my chest. _Come on, everything's ok now. You're alive._ I glance up at the windshield to see whatever had crashed into it, now left the glass cracked in a spider web sort of way. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a crow, massive and bloody, it's long beak was stuck straight through the glass, it's dark and dead beady eyes staring right at me. I felt an urge to vomit at the gruesome sight, but I swallowed a few times and took a couple deep breaths, and the feeling went away.

I sat for a few more minutes until I gathered the courage to get out of the car as I couldn't exactly drive around with a dead bird stuck in the windshield. First I try the windshield wipers. It only makes it worse by smearing blood and guts on the glass. No other traffic was on the road as I looked around for a stick. Finally finding one, the horses stood by the wooden fence, watching me pry the sticky and bloody mess off the windshield with it. The crow's carcass now lay in a heap in the grass. I got off much as I could as some of it's gooey matter still stuck to the glass, making me feel sick to my stomach. 

Back behind the wheel **(♫Oh little girl, there are times when I feel I'd rather not be the one behind the wheel. Come, pull my strings. Watch me move, I do anything, please.♫ Haha sorry. 😁)** I restart the engine and turn the wipers back on along with the wiper fluid. It only smeared more of the stuck blood and guts until eventually washing away somewhat. _Oh well, that's the best I can do for right now._ I pull back out into the lane, squinting past webbed out shattered glass as I drove along the hilly countryside. 

Soon, the old three story farm house came into view, looking menacing as ever against the gloomy afternoon sky. I pull off the road and onto the gravel drive leading to the place. A fence that had once surrounded the property was now long gone and the grass was grown out, long and wild. The house was still the same as I remember it, a faded white brick Victorian structure with a dark grey roof, and a curvy wrap around wooden porch, supported by wood brackets. A very old house in this day and age, and one of the biggest houses of this area as it was originally built during the early 1800's by someone with a ton of money. By the time my parents bought it in late 1946 just months before Robert was born, it needed lots of repairs. My father did what he could to keep it nice, but with his bad heart, he wasn't able to do very much.

I've always had conflicting feelings about this place. I grew up here, but my childhood wasn't all happy memories, except for the times I played in the surrounding countryside with the few neighboring children, including Veronica who I always called Ronnie or Ron. I was somewhat good friends with her brother Victor, although he never played with the kids since he tended to be very shy. They always made fun of him because he was deaf and partially mute.

With a deep breath, I climb out of the car, while staring up at the old house wearily. There was no denying that the place was haunted. Not with ghosts, but with bad memories that fueled all my nightmares, stolen my sanity, and pretty much shaped me into what I am today. A quiet, shy and withdrawn man, secretly into men while also a bassist for one of the greatest rock bands of all time known as Queen. A man who claims to have seen the Boogeyman drown his older brother and kill his father right in front of his eyes. A real laughing stock to the world.

This place was nothing but haunted with horrifying memories, and Dr. Newton was right. I have to face it. I have to go inside and spend an entire night here. I have to confront my fears. If I can do this, I can beat it once and for all. I can find the answers and beat the Boogeyman. I can beat him. I can do this. I know I can.

_Oh but just you wait, Johnny Boy. You'll soon be in for one helluva night. You'll see..._

I push the voice away, damned and determined to ignore it. _You'll be locked away soon,_ I tell the voice. _After tonight, I won't be bloody hearing from your arse anymore._

I take another deep breath as I approach the front door with the key my uncle gave me, and sliding it through the lock, I turn the knob, and the door slowly opens.

_Welcome home, Johnny Boy. Are you ready to do this and face your worst nightmares?_

*****

**Hehehe. 😉😁**


	8. Memories

*****

I stop just beyond the open door as it opens up all the way, stiffening to the shadowy pitch blackness, my mind telling me to turn around and run and never come back. But instead, I find the light switch just inside, where I always remembered it to be, and I flick it on with shaky fingers. The room was immediately bathed in bright light from the large crystal chandelier in the foyer walkway. _Much better._

I look around. The place was indeed a mess. Blue tarps and transparent plastic sheeting was hung all over the place with some splattered with paint or covered in sawdust. Sections of walls and ceiling were gone. Tools, various paint cans, and containers of nails lay everywhere. For a moment, I have a vision of my uncle, working his arse off and tearing up the place little by little with not much planning, but as I examine the place further, I realize some progress has been made. Just very slowly.

A sudden breeze rolled through the open front door, rattling the plastic sheeting, making me nearly jump out of my skin. I step inside all the way, closing the door behind me. I was now inside and there was no turning back now. From this point on, whatever's going to happen, will start now.

First I have a look in the living room and notice the stone fireplace at the far end, the sight of it bringing back memories of when we were a whole family and sat around it's toasty blaze on cold winter nights, wrapped in sweaters and blankets, drinking hot chocolate and telling stories. Now it was merely dismantled and torn apart. The stone base still remained but everything above it was gone. 

An old 1950s TV cabinet stood in one corner with a plastic sheet draped over it, and a leather recliner that had been my father's chair still sat in the same spot, all alone, never been moved. My mum kept it that way ever since that night. I remember there were times when I would sit in it some late nights and fall asleep, and I would feel his presence as if he were watching over me and protecting me from all the bad things.

I look away from the chair and spot a big cardboard box. With curiosity, I go over to it and pry open the flaps, and sit down in front of it. Inside I find my mum's prized China dishes and vintage silverware wrapped in newspaper and bubble wrap, along with some everyday dinner dishes that were chipped and cracked. I dig into the box some more and find tons of photographs at the bottom sealed away in plastic Ziploc bags, others in old shoe boxes, or just loose. **(I don't know if Ziploc existed in the UK in the 1970s, but we're going with it anyway. 😂 Hey that rhymed XD)**

Smiling to myself, I brought the photos out and sat with my legs crossed as I thumbed through them. Lots of family photos, newborn baby photos, old daguerreotypes, ones from family vacations. I giggle at one in particular of me, my father, and Julie at the beach holding our arms out and showing off our muscles. Another of my parents wedding, the back dated as September of 1939. At times I forget how young they were. Mum was 18 and my father was 20.

I find another one, this time of me as a young boy, clad in winter gear on a snowy hill. Next to me was a little girl with bright blonde hair. "John and Veronica" was written on the back of it. I smile, briefly remembering that day we all went sledding down that hill. We were inseparable as kids in those days. Seeing her and Victor at the funeral earlier had me thinking of visiting them while I'm still here. Maybe before I leave tomorrow morning, I will. 

Another photo catches my eye. Taken in a hospital room, it showed my Mum sitting in a bed with a tiny sleeping bundle in her arms. My father was sat next to the bed, looking proud and happy. Written out on the back was "Robert Bryan Deacon 3rd of February 1947"

A sudden noise coming from the kitchen of what sounded like electrical whirring averted my attention away from the photos. My uncle wasn't here working though. Maybe he had a helper.

"Hello?" I call out.

Putting everything back in the box, I stood up and brushed the white plaster dust off my funeral pants as I walk towards the dining room at the end of the hallway. Plastic sheeting hung in the doorway, and through it I could see the outline of someone moving about.

"Hello?" I ask again, but get no response as the whirring noises continue.

I then hear a soft, feminine voice call my name, a voice I knew all too well. Swallowing nervously, I push aside the plastic with a shaky hand and see my mum standing at the counter, raven haired and pretty as I always remembered her. Very young, I guess, wearing a red and white polka dotted dress. She was dancing in place to an Elvis Presley song on the handheld radio that sat on the counter while she watched as a can of cat food slowly rotated on the electric can opener. A calico coloured cat I remember naming Callie sat at her feet, meowing up a storm.

"Alright, it's coming," she says to the cat.

When it was done, she poured the food into the cats dish, and the hungry feline immediately dove in, hungry as ever.

She looked up and gave me a stern look, but there was still a smile in her eyes. "John, she's your cat. You're supposed to feed her. Julie feeds hers."

I was about to answer, but my fathers voice was heard from what I called "the secret stairwell" at the other side of the kitchen, which was actually just another flight of steps leading to the second story of the house. "I can't find it anywhere."

He appeared around the corner of the fridge, his dark hair a wild mess of curls, sharply dressed in black dress pants, held up by suspenders, and a tucked in long sleeved white shirt. 

"What can't you find?" mum asks. 

"My handgun," he replies. "It's not in the nightstand."

Mum sighs. "Well let's hope John didn't take it.

"Oh bollocks, why would he take it?"

Mum shot him a look. "Really now?"

"Wait, hold on a second now, how is this my fault?"

"Because he's scared, Arthur," she says to him. "That bloody story you told him about a dark mythical man who appears in closets and underneath beds and takes you away. You know he has a very vivid imagination. He already thinks Robert was killed because of--"

"You have got to be kidding me, Lillian," he argues back. "It's only a story. My father did the same thing to me!"

"Yeah well, now he's telling everyone we know that he saw the Boogeyman drown Robert in the bath! You know what that does to me as a mother to hear your own child say things like that?"

"And I've explained to him numerous times that his drowning was accidental!"

While watching this, I felt a presence behind me. I spin around, frightened for a second, but it was just a boy, and it took me a second to realize I was looking at a younger version of me, watching my parents argue about me. I look frightened and sad. In this case, I recall being so freaked out that I took my father's handgun and hid it underneath my pillow, figuring that if anything appeared from my closet, a bullet would solve the problem. But I had been too scared to use it and it stayed there until the night my father died and I later returned it to the nightstand.

I couldn't stand looking at my sad younger self any longer, so I turned back towards the kitchen, only to see that my mum and father were now gone, almost as if they had never been there. Young me was gone as well. The inside of the kitchen smelled musty and looked like the rest of the house, torn up with sections of the hardwood floor missing, and cabinet doors off the hinges. The old wooden kitchen table was still in front of the window where I always remember it being. The fridge, grey with dust, still in it's place. The old gas stove was gone though. And on the floor near the counter was Callie's old dish, coated with layers of dust.

I knew coming back here would stir up so many memories. I just didn't expect how vivid they would get. Stepping through the plastic barrier, I cross the kitchen and head for the back stairwell where I saw my father come through in my hallucination or flashback, whatever it's called, and it briefly occurred to me that I should probably worry about these so called hallucinations as they have tended to be different from all the other ones I've experienced. Some worse than others. Each time I'm alone however, I tend to have one. Except for the one I experienced the other night in the hotel room that Freddie witnessed.

I've never been diagnosed with schizophrenia, but I had a sneaking suspicion I wasn't far off from it. If Dr. Newton hadn't been interrupted, I probably would've had ended up being referred to a mental institution or something. Just thinking about it sent shivers down my spine. If seeing things so vividly that weren't there wasn't a sign of schizophrenia, then I don't know what is. Dr. Newton had made it crystal clear that he was done with me as I was too old to continue seeing a child psychologist. I could tell he was thinking about making a referral just before we were interrupted. 

But if I take these bizarre visions for granted, then I would be beyond any help and I would simply be thrown into a mental house. I'm determined to not let it get that far because not only would it look bad on my part, it would look bad on the band as well and would sabotage all our careers. However, I'm not going to call in the professionals of medical science since today I had only one thing to do on my agenda, and that is to spend the night in this old house. Maybe it would cure me once and for all and I'll never need another psychologist ever again. One could only hope.


	9. Veronica

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofread a bunch of times, enjoy. Comments and kudos would be very much appreciated, thank you. ❤

*****

Walking up to the second floor, I slowly made my way to my old bedroom at the end of the hallway, which was closed. With all the doors closed, the overhead light did little to light the hall, and with the skies outside still gloomy, it made everything up here appear more dark. I approach the door with caution as if I have to run away if something were to happen and my knees felt weak. This is the room where things went bad, where I witnessed my father's horrible death, and where I spent every night of my childhood scared of the shadowy corners, scared of the closet.

I stop in front of the door, too scared to continue on with this. But I have to do it. _Face your fears. Come on, you can do this._ I have to go in. With a deep breath, I reach my hand out for the doorknob, but right as I go to touch it, images of my father's supposed death where I could hear the tearing of flesh, the crunching of bones, and the spurting of blood flash before my eyes. There's so much blood and I can hear his screams and cries of anguish and pain. Through it all, I could see myself sitting in bed, afraid to move with wide eyes to the horrifying scene playing out in front of me.

Choking out a gasp, I caught myself against the far wall, and just like that, the horrible scene was now gone from my mind. I blink and blow out a deep shuddering breath as the terror of that moment had really taken me by surprise and I had to remind myself that it never happened. _He died of a heart attack, John._

With a few more deep breaths, I ease myself away from the wall, and was about to go open the door when I heard the sound of a horses whinny from outside. I cross over to the other side of the hallway, towards the master bedroom, stepping past missing floorboards as I went over to the double French doors that look out towards the other side of the property, towards where the Tetzlaff family lives.

Stood at the railing, I look down to see a grown up Veronica in the field, struggling with staying mounted atop a horse that looked rather spooked about something, it's eyes wild and nostrils flaring like mad as it bucked and jumped around, determined to throw her off it's back, and as I watch from a distance, it succeeds. Veronica screams, flying backwards off the horse and onto her back. 

"Oh shit, Veronica!" I call out across the field, but she doesn't answer and doesn't move. 

I turn and ran back into the house, taking the stairs two at a time and rush outside, and by the time I reach where she's at, she's already sitting up and holding the back of her head, her strawberry blonde hair disheveled from the fall.

"Veronica!" I shout, breathless from the run as I bend down to her level. "Are you ok?"

She turns to look at me, looking a bit dazed and I just hoped she didn't have a concussion. "Yeah, I think so but I hit my head pretty hard. I was just riding him home and he all of a sudden got spooked."

I help her to her feet. "Would you like to come in for a bit?" I ask as I just want to keep an eye on her for a few minutes before letting her walk back home. "Just so I can take a look and put some ice on it."

"Yeah ok," she says with a smile, her green eyes sparkling as she blushes and in that moment, I realized that she had grown into a young beautiful woman. At the funeral I found her to be quite striking even though I only saw her from a distance and she was in all black. Now she wore blue jeans and a white long sleeved shirt.

"I saw you at the funeral earlier today," I say.

"I saw you as well but I wasn't sure you'd remember me. Julie did although she didn't really talk to me all that much. Anyways, I'm real sorry about your mum."

Suddenly a long wailing shout of what sounded like someone calling out to Veronica was heard in the field, and turning around, I see it's just Victor waving his arm with a smile on his face while making hand signals on his other hand.

"Oh, he's asking if he can come along," she says to me.

I smile. "Sure."

She waves her arm back, motioning for him to tag along and he lets out a happy sounding noise as he comes running toward us with frantic hand signals to Veronica. 

"Yes I am fine," she signals back to him. "He's getting ice for my head. You remember John Deacon?"

He nods and makes more hand signals, his face filled with excitement in recognizing who I am, and I can't help but grin as he starts playing an air guitar. 

Veronica giggles and turns back towards me. "He's excited to see you."

"I can see that," I say.

"How about that ice now, huh?" she asks me.

*****

"Owww jeez," Veronica giggles as I press an ice pack against the back of her head. "What are you trying to do?"

"Sorry," I say and let her hold the ice pack.

"I'm in pain," she teases, humor in her tone.

"I'm sorry."

A few moments of silence followed as I stayed leaned up against the windowsill and Veronica sat at the kitchen table. Victor was currently looking around the place, staying within our sights, seemingly lost in his own little world as he made little humming noises and wiggled his fingers about.

"So..." Veronica says, breaking the silence.

"So..." I say, rocking back and forth on my heels.

"So how's the band doing?" she asks. "I saw you guys got a new album out."

"It's been real good. We're currently on a tour of the U.S."

She nods. "Nice," she says as she checks the ice pack. "Have you got a girlfriend."

I feel my cheeks heat up, a shy smile playing out on my face. "Oh uh, no. I haven't found that special someone just yet." _Except Freddie._ "Brian's married now and they already have a baby on the way that's due next summer, and Roger's dating some young gal. How about you?"

She giggles. "Do I have a girlfriend?" she asks me, the teasing tone back in her voice.

"Well, you know what I meant."

She shook her head. "Nope, no boyfriend. It's just me and Victor. My parents took away my freedom of going out and socializing when they decided they didn't want to take care of him anymore."

Victor suddenly made a noise, and looking up, I see him pressing his thumb and index fingers together on both hands by his cheeks, then he points downwards to Callie's old dish on the floor.

"Yes, cat," Veronica signals back, smiling. "Good job."

He grins and goes back to looking around.

"I'm amazed he remembers Callie," she says to me. "So how long are you staying around for?"

"I think just for tonight. I want to go through my mum's things. Pictures and whatnot. I found a silly one of you and me."

Veronica shook her head with a grin. "No, I don't ever recall being silly."

"Yes, I'll even show you," I say. "It's actually kind of cute. Hang on, I'll be right back."

"Cute, I believe," she says as I walk past and head towards the living room. "Or gorgeous."

I grab one of the photo albums from the box, absentmindedly flipping through it as I slowly walked back into the hallway, and that's when a certain photo caught my eye. It showed all five of us together as a family just before Robert died, looking happy and worry free. I could suddenly hear my younger self's voice.

_"He killed Robert and now he's going to get me!"_

_"John, no one killed him, he drowned in the bath!"_

As I hear those voices, the light in the closet down at the end of the hall, just past the staircase, began to flash and flicker with a buzzing noise.

"Find it?" Veronica asks, startling me. 

"What?" I ask, jumping slightly to the sound of her voice as she appears next to me.

"The silly photo," she says.

"Oh yes," I say, feeling stupid for getting startled. I flip through the album, locating the one of me and her on the snowy hill. "Here."

"Awww, look at us!" she gushes. "You looked so cute. You still are of course."

I giggle, feeling myself blush again. "Thanks."

She stares at the photo with a dreamy expression. "Wow, this really takes me back." She looks up at me, her expression now serious. "You know, I was so crushed when you guys left. It broke my little heart."

 _How do you think I felt?_ I thought. _Julie and_ _I lost our brother and father, and our mum had a complete psychotic breakdown._ But I wasn't going to say that. "And it broke my heart that you couldn't throw a bloody baseball," I tease.

She laughs. "Oh yeah, well you were the one who was always scared of closets," she teases back.

I froze, not ever recalling a time of telling her that. "I told you that?"

She nods, the smile still on her face. "But I told you closets were nothing, it was the thing underneath your bed you had to be more worried about."

Completely feeling at a loss for words, I began to wonder just what else I had told her back when we were kids, but nothing I could remember came to my memory, and it made me wonder if I told her my brother and father were killed by the dark man. _No, I'm sure she would've brought it up or something._

"Well Victor and I have to get going now," she says, handing the photo album back to me. "Get started on supper."

She turned and heads back towards the kitchen where Victor was still at, and a moment later, they both walked out together with her hand in his as she guided him along. I suddenly felt disappointed that she was leaving and wished they could both stay so I wouldn't be left alone in this big house.

"Oh, do you have any food in the house?" she asks as she reaches the door.

I shook my head.

"Let me bring you something later tonight," she says.

I smile. "You really don't have to do that," I say, even though the thought of her coming back thrilled me that I'd be able to see her lovely face again.

"Nonsense, I want to," she says, throwing back another beautiful smile.

Victor waved goodbye and the door shut behind them, and as soon as they were gone, the light in the closet at the end of the hallway began to flicker and buzz once again. I felt my blood turn to ice, my heart dropping. _No, it's probably just a short in the wiring or something,_ I tell myself. _It's nothing._

_Then what are you so scared for, Johnny Boy? Why not just go in there and fix the light bulb yourself, hmmm?_

_Sod off, I will. If it's the only way to shut your arse up._

_Then go._

Determined to shut the voice up, I walk towards the closet as the light continues to flicker, and I tug open the door, the hinges squeaking. I step inside and touch the bulb which is hot to the touch, but I'm able to get it to stop blinking and a soft light illuminates the entirety of the closet to where I'm able to see all the stuff in here. Tons of old coats, jackets, jumpers and shirts hung on the racks and on the shelves up above were more things. I stand on my tiptoes to reach the first thing I see. A child's little wooden guitar. I smile and play on the old strings, giggling at the sounds it makes, then place it back on the shelf.

As I reach for another thing, the door suddenly slammed shut and the overhead light went out, bathing the closet in pitch black darkness. In a complete panic, I spun around, desperately and blindly searching for the doorknob, and when I felt the coolness of it under my hand, I feel something pull me back, yanking me away from the door. _No!_ I feel claws on my arm, it's long fingers squeezing and digging in. I scream out into the darkness, panic overtaking me and I thrash and flail about, red beady eyes and nightmarish faces appearing before me as more claws grab at me, pulling and tearing at my clothes, grabbing at my hair, and digging into the flesh of my arms. 

Fear set in and my breathing became unsteady as I began to swat and pull away from the claws and faces in desperation to get out of here. I let out another terrified scream as I feel a clawed hand around my neck, attempting to choke me. Finally I was able to locate the doorknob, and turning it, I threw open the door, light flooded in, and I fell to the floor of the hallway onto my back where I immediately crawl away on hands and feet in a blind panic until I bump into the wall. My breathing heavy and my heart beating like crazy against my rib cage, I look back at the open closet, the inside of it a mess of clothes and broken and bent hangers.

I look down at my arm to see my white dress shirt torn just below my shoulder with blood seeping out and there was also blood on my forehead from a cut above my eyebrow. Something closed the door. Something attacked me. I was sure of it.

_Those wounds are real, Johnny Boy. But maybe they're also self inflicted. You ever think about that? I think it finally happened. I think you've already gone slightly mad, and you're too far gone now, and I don't think you'll ever get back..._


	10. Is It True?

*****

I can feel my sanity slowly decreasing with every second that ticks by. It fucking scares me and I'm terrified of what else I'm going to see or what will happen as the night goes on. I'm scared that this house will cause me to go mad, scared that the voices are right that I'm already too far gone. I'm scared I won't ever see the guys again or return home safely, and never be able to feel Freddie's warm embrace that helps make me feel protected, and his sweet and tender kisses that help chase all the worry away. But most of all, I'm scared I won't make it out of here alive. Dear father in Heaven, please help me. I need answers to find the bloody truth. I need you here to protect me from all the bad stuff. I need your presence here with me. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I need your help...

*****

Stood in front of the upstairs washroom mirror, I examine the bruise on my neck that was just beginning to form. It's tender and sore to the touch. Next I peel my blood stained dress shirt off and look at the still bleeding wound on my arm. There's no way I did this to myself as it appears to be deep claw marks and looks much worse than the scratch above my eyebrow. It almost looks like it's going to need stitches, which scares me as I hate hospitals and needles. I go to lightly touch it and hiss from the intensity of the pain. 

The washroom was still untouched by my uncle, so opening the mirror cabinet, I search for plasters and other things to help take care of this. Finding what I need, I go to work on disinfecting the wound with peroxide. I grit my teeth against the intense stinging pain, willing myself not to pass out. As the stinging pain disappears, I hold a wet cloth up against it to help stop some of the initial bleeding. While doing so, I look at my own reflection in the mirror. My face is covered in a sheen of sweat and I look unfocused and beyond tired. My eyes are bloodshot and have dark circles underneath them. I hardly even recognize the sad reflection that stares back at me. 

Suddenly from behind me in the porcelain tub, I hear the dripping of water coming from the faucet. I slowly turn to look and images of Robert's drowned body appear in my mind, floating in the water, his skin pale and eyes glazed over. I stumble backwards with a frightened gasp and squeeze my eyes shut as tears threaten to surface. _Oh god please stop. I can't take much more of this..._

*****

Snorting the last bit of cocaine Roger gave to me and taking whatever pain pills I could find in the untouched cabinet, I redress in a pair of bell bottom jeans and a long sleeved black buttoned down silk shirt, and head back downstairs with a trash bag full of things to get rid of, my white dress shirt included.

Outside, a cool breeze hung in the air. It was now dark and the moon was full against a now cloudless sky, and the pale moonlight cast shadows everywhere in the backyard. I do my best to look past them and focus on the task at hand as I make my way to the trash bins where I always remembered them to be. 

Flipping the lid open, I toss the bag into the bin, and turning back to head towards the house, a sudden noise coming from the old tool shed stops me in my tracks. I look over in the direction of the wood shed that I had been so deathly afraid of as a child. It was always dark inside and had what I also hated the most. Spiders. Tons of them. My mum and father kept their gardening tools and other things in there and would sometimes send me in there to retrieve things for them. Sometimes they would send Julie and I both in there. She was never afraid to come in here.

_You're an adult now, John. Time to face that fear._

I shrug, preparing myself mentally. Might as well as it's only a shed. Reaching for the door, I hesitate for a moment before closing my hand around the handle. The door is rusted and stuck as I tug on it and it opens with a rusty screech. Just inside on the left, where I remember it being, I felt around for the light switch, and finding it right away, I flick it on, thankful that the lights in here still worked. Three lights buzzed on, one by the doorway and two at each end of the shed.

Everything inside was the same as I remembered it. An old worktable in the corner, cluttered with dusty tools and other things. Broken down gas powered mowers, joined together with spiderwebs. Gas cans, paint cans, and moldy cardboard boxes in another corner.

Thinking that perhaps the noise I heard was my own imagination, I reach for the switch to turn the lights off when a movement from behind the boxes catches my eye.

"Hello?" I ask.

A moment later, a timid looking young boy who looks no older than ten years old peers out from behind the boxes.

"Are you alright?" I ask him.

He doesn't answer.

"Come on out," I say to him. "I won't hurt you."

He still says nothing, so I back away from the door, beckoning him with a kind smile to come out. I hear a shuffling noise from inside as he finally comes out of his hiding spot and into the moonlight. 

"What were doing in my parents tool shed?" I ask him, but he still doesn't say anything, and it only takes me a moment to finally recognize him. "That was you at my mum's funeral, wasn't it?"

The boy under the tree. The same grey and red striped t-shirt, khaki shorts, light baby blue jacket, and a dark blue bandanna around the neck. Light brown wavy hair and hazel eyes. 

He looks at the ground, his voice soft as he spoke. "My parents knew her."

I don't recall seeing him there with his parents. "What's your name?"

"Tim," he answers shyly. 

"My name's John," I say to him.

"I know. John Deacon. Bassist for Queen."

_Is he just a fan or something?_ "So do you want to tell me what you're doing here?" I ask.

Finally Tim looks up at me, his face serious. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"What about?" I ask curiously.

"I just got too scared. That's why I was hiding in there."

"Would you like to talk to me now?" I suggest.

He swallowed, suddenly looking nervous. "Is it true?"

I furrow my brow. "Is what true?"

Tim lowered his gaze back at the ground. "That the Boogeyman killed your brother and father?"

_Who on Earth is this child?_ I stare at him at a loss for words as my heart hammers inside my chest. "Look, I don't know where you heard such things, but...it's only a story. There is no such thing as the Boogeyman." Even as I said those words, I realized I was repeating what every single adult had told me as a child, and I believed what I was saying, so I kept going. "My brother drown in the bath and my father had a heart attack. That's all that happened. Okay?"

Something seemed to change in Tim's expression, almost like he believed my words, but I couldn't really tell.

"Look it's a bit late for you to be out here all by your lonesome and your parents are probably worried sick about you," I say. "Where do you live? I'll give you a lift."

"Next to the park," he answers. "I'm alright though, I have my own ride."

He walked off and reached down into the bushes, pulling up an old rusty Schwinn bicycle. **(I got one of these. A 1989 model but it's covered in spiders. No thanks, I'll walk.** 😅😂 **)**

"Oi, Tim!" I call out, causing him to turn back and look at me. "When you feel afraid, close your eyes and count to five. It always works for me."

He seemed to be contemplating my advice until he cocked his head to one side. "But what happens when you get to six?"

Not waiting for my answer, Tim turned back around, hopping onto his bike and he pedaled away from the dark yard and out of sight. I stay standing by the shed, listening until all was quiet again. What a weird child. But something else was familiar about him, almost like he reminded me of myself. I wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing though. 

I go back inside the tool shed to shut the light off, deciding to have a look around first. I spot something by the boxes where Tim had been hiding. A small grey backpack. This couldn't have been something left behind as it looked much too new. It must be Tim's, but he's long gone now and I'm not about to go running off in the darkness of the night looking for him. Picking it up, I notice it's quite heavy, and turning off the lights, I leave the shed and carry it back to the house with me.


	11. Help Us, John

I head back into the house, trying to decide what to do with Tim's backpack. Maybe he'll come back for it, although I doubt he would as he looked a bit scared of me that I caught him hiding out in the tool shed. Or perhaps I'll open it to look for an address so I can return it to him that way. I shake my head at the thought, deciding that not to be the greatest idea either. I wouldn't want his parents to freak at a random stranger showing up to their front door at 9 o'clock at night with their sons backpack.

Before I was able to think up another idea, I hear the storage closet door underneath the staircase bang open, causing me to jump, and looking over I see my father and the younger version of me appear, and I realize it's just another hallucination or memory, but it's not a happy one. I look terrified as my father drags me towards the open door.

"There's nothing to be bloody scared of, John!" he says. "Just go in there!"

"Dad please!" young me cries out.

"Get in there," he says, pulling at my arm as I try to fight him off. "And you'll see."

"No, please don't make me go in there!" I shriek.

But my father was much stronger than me as he pushed me into the storage closet and held the door closed. I remember the sensation even today of feeling panicked and helpless like something was in there with me, waiting in the darkness to jump out and grab me.

"Dad, please let me out!" I cry and scream, pounding on the door. "Let me out, I don't like this!"

"John, stop it," my father says, his tone of voice saying calm as my screams and cries quieted down somewhat.

"Please, I'm scared," I whimper. "Let me out."

"There's nothing in there," he tells me. "Count to five just like I taught you. Close your eyes and count to five."

Inside the closet, I could faintly hear my younger self count in little sobs. "One...two...three."

My father nodded and smiled. "Good lad, keep going."

I close my eyes, counting along with my younger self. "Four...five..." I open my eyes again, the vision in front of me now gone.

_Are you having a hard time telling what's real and what isn't, Johnny Boy? Or is it all real life? Or maybe just a fantasy? Or neither? How will you be able to tell other people what's real and what's not, when you don't even know yourself? What would poor Freddie think of you then? And do you think you helped little Timmy back there with your advice?_

"Fuck off would you," I say out loud, annoyed with the harassing voice. "I'll worry about all that later, right after I get rid of your arse."

My response seemed to do the trick...for now. Carrying the backpack into the living room, I sat down in my father's chair and began to unzip it, noticing it was filled to the brim with huge stacks of papers. I tug the stack out with curiosity, the top paper a missing person flyer. Gwilym Lee, twenty-three years old, last seen on the first of August, 1970 in Bristol. The picture showed a sullen looking young man with shaggy dark brown hair and blue eyes. The name and face almost looked a bit familiar to me, but for the life of my memory, I couldn't put my finger on it.

The next one was a young blonde woman, twenty years old, and last seen in March of 1971. Her expression was sad and reminded me a bit of Freddie's best friend, Mary. I look through the rest, every single one of them all missing person flyers, some yellowed with age and dating back as far as the 1930s. Some were cut out of milk cartons, ripped from magazine ads or taken from telephone poles, and other spots. Boys, girls, men, and women of every race, age, and country. Even newborn babies. One in particular was an entire family of six that had vanished in California. I look through all of them, astonished that someone as young as Tim would have a huge collection of such morbid and sad things like this.

A sound catches my attention. Like running footsteps, coming from the foyer. _Did Tim come back?_ I look up and catch the slightest glimpse of a small boy running past, and then just like that, the footsteps were gone as if I had imagined it all. Perhaps it's just my nerves getting the best of me or it was just a noise from outside. I go back to digging out more things from the backpack. Among the missing persons flyers, there was also clippings from newspaper articles of disappearances from all over the world. I come across a scrap of newspaper with a picture of a smiling teenage boy, with reddish brown hair and hazel eyes, with an article on his disappearance:

"Authorities still have no leads on the disappearance of seventeen year old Joseph Francis Mazzello, who went missing from his New York home. According to the family and a school friend who had been visiting that night, the young teen had went upstairs and was gone for quite some time, raising suspicion among family members and the friend. Mr. and Mrs. Mazzello went upstairs to check on their son, only to find that he had somehow vanished from the family home. All windows and doors were locked and there were no signs of forced entry and the freshly fallen snow surrounding the property showed no signs of footprints. The teen's friend, nineteen year old Rami Malek released the following statement, urging others to be on the lookout."

**_"Please, if you see my best friend, please bring him home so I know that he's safe. That's all I ask. Bring him home to us."_ **

Unable to continue reading such a heartbreaking thing, I stop. This was beginning to get to me, overwhelming me as I continued to read other articles, but the more I read, I start to become aware of sibilant whispering coming from all around me, growing louder with each passing second, saying things like _"Help us, he's going to come for us."_ and _"Don't look under the bed, that's where he hides."_

Other voices soon joined in over the chants, becoming a chorus. _"Don't look under the bed, don't go in the closet. He's gonna get us and he's gonna get you!"_ they sang.

I throw the papers down and bring my hands to my ears, but it doesn't help. I can still hear them all.

"STOP IT!" I scream out at the top of my lungs.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the voices become deafeningly loud. My head starts to hurt and faces of the children start flashing before my eyes. Hauntingly sad eyes, sad mouths, grim, hopeless, and heartbreaking expressions.

"Help us, John!" I hear a child's voice, clear as day in front of me, causing me to open my eyes and see a group of children all around the living room.

Frightened by their faces, I jump out of the chair and run into the foyer where several more dozen children suddenly appear. I spin in a slow circle as they surround me, closing in on me, their faces pale, lost, and frightened. None spoke but I could hear their voices pleading to me.

"Help us," they say. "Find us, John. He took us."

"I'm sorry," I say as I continue spinning in a circle. "I don't know how."

"Please help us."

"I'm sorry," I repeat over and over again.

Suddenly, all the children's heads snapped towards the end of the hallway, and I stop spinning and glance around at all the kids, every single one of them looking in the same exact direction as if their gazes had been yanked by a string or directed by a signal I could not detect. Curious as to what they're all looking at, I follow their staring to the closet at the end of hallway where I had been attacked earlier, and I watch the door slowly swing open. This time the light inside wasn't on, only sheer darkness. My eyes widen as my heart began to pound like mad, blood roaring in my ears to what I was seeing and hearing. With an angry roar, the Boogeyman popped out from the closet, and he was coming my way...

*****

**Oh boy, I wonder what's gonna happen next.** 😁 **Also, someone will be coming to John's rescue, I wonder who that might be.** 😉😁


	12. 🔥I Won't Let Him Take You🔥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty then I think I've made ya'll wait long enough for this. Everyone ready Freddie for some Get Down, Make Love? 😏😁 So yeah this chapter is Rated M if you've noticed the fire emojis. So please enjoy and excuse any mistakes and forgive me for my terrible attempt at writing smut in a man's POV 'cuz it's literally my first time. 😂

*****

The Boogeyman right behind me, screeching and roaring angrily with it's shadowy clawed hands reaching out for me, I ran with all my might for the front door. I wasn't going to let him take me. Not now and not ever. I wasn't going to end up like my brother and father, or all those children.

Adrenaline fueling through me, I yank open the door. It slams shut as I bolt outside in a complete panic, and I lose my footing, tumbling off the porch and onto the ground below.

"Deaky!" I hear someone call out from the drive as a car door slams shut and footsteps come running across the gravel. "Deaky darling, are you alright?!"

"Freddie?" I ask in between heavy breaths, feeling disoriented and confused. "What are you doing here?"

I become aware of headlights of a taxi shining brightly and lighting up the front yard, chasing away any darkness, and a moment later, Freddie, clad in white dress pants and a fur coat, is at my side, bent down at my level and looking at me with concern etched on his face until he gasps when he see's my face.

"Darling, what happened to your face and your neck?" he asks, gently taking hold of my chin. "Were you attacked? What happened?"

"We need to get the hell out of here," I say breathlessly, pushing his hands away from my face. 

"What?"

"We need to go now!" I tell him more urgently as I struggle to my feet.

He helps me stand. "Easy darling," he says. "What's the rush?"

My eyes dart wildly around the dark yard just beyond the headlights and back at the front door. "Look, can we just go?!" I beg desperately. "Please!"

I quickly head for the taxi with Freddie following behind me.

"Where to now, lads?" the driver asks, but I ignore him and climb into the backseat, just wanting to get away from this nightmarish house.

"Drive around for a bit, I guess," Freddie tells him.

The driver nods. "Yes sir."

Freddie gets in next to me and the taxi began backing down the long drive, casting shadows in the back seat and making me nervous as I drum my fingers on my knee. I kept my eyes on the house until we pulled away and drove off down the long countryside road.

"Deaky?" Freddie asks in a soft voice, breaking the silence.

I look over at his beautiful moonlit face and try to offer him a reassuring smile, but I can't find it in me to do just that as my mind is in a complete whirl and I can't seem to think straight.

"Why aren't you in New York?" I ask.

"We decided to cancel the rest of the tour," he says.

My eyes widen. "You what?! Freddie, why would you do that?! I told you several bloody times you could've gotten a replacement for me while I was away and--"

"Lovey," he interrupts me, taking hold of my face in between his hands. _Oh I've missed those beautiful hands._ "Listen to me, lovey. It's ok. We only had about ten more shows left, it's not a big deal. Besides, you're right that family comes first. Now just take a deep breath." 

I take a deep breath, repeating a calming mantra in my mind over all the intrusive thoughts and the children's voices that I could still hear. _Help us, John, he's coming. He's coming for you._

"That's it, now just breathe, darling," he says soothingly. "There's a good, lovey. Now can you tell me what's going on with you?"

I try and think of an answer, but the right words just won't come, and I have no clue where to even start. Do I tell him about the missing children I saw or about the little boy hiding out in my parents tool shed? Or that I saw the Boogeyman? 

I shake my head. "I just can't. Maybe later."

Even as I said those last two words, I knew it was a lie. I can't tell him these things. He simply wouldn't understand. Not this time.

"How did you get that cut above your eyebrow and the bruise on your neck?" he asks me.

I don't answer. I can't.

"Did you hurt yourself, darling?"

_No, it was the Boogeyman. He did this to me._

_You sure about that, Johnny Boy?_

_Fuck off._

"Deaky, please talk to me," he says softly.

But I was too caught up in my own thoughts to talk as haunting memories of the lost children invaded my mind and of the Boogeyman who had appeared out of the closet and chased me.

Freddie sighs. "Look it's late. Why don't we stop somewhere to rest and talk. Where's the nearest hotel?"

"No hotels around here for miles, sir," the cab driver answers for me. "There's a small motel just on the outskirts of the countryside."

"How far away?" Freddie asks.

"Couple more miles out from here."

"A motel is fine then."

"Yes sir."

The rest of the car ride is silent with the radio turned down in the background. I'm somewhat thankful for the music as it drowns out the voices, and with Freddie's hand discreetly holding mine to where the driver can't see makes me feel somewhat better.

Finally, just up ahead, the neon sign of the motel came into view, and the driver pulled into the car park, which was thankfully bathed in light. But there were still too many shadows. The driver parked and Freddie handed over a generous amount for the fare, then climbed out. I got out and followed close behind the front man while looking over my shoulder every few seconds as it suddenly felt like I was being watched, and no matter how many times I reminded myself that it was just my nerves, the more paranoid I began to feel. 

Freddie checked us in and the desk clerk walked him through the paperwork, which seemed to take bloody forever until he handed over our room key, freeing us from that stuffy little office. 

*****

I sat at the foot of the bed, my nerves continuing to get the best of me as I waited for Freddie to return from whatever he was doing. I had been too caught up in my own thoughts to comprehend what he had told me, and now here I was, extremely nervous, on edge, and shaky from adrenaline. The silence in the room didn't help either and I wanted to turn the telly on for some comforting background noise, but I felt too afraid to move.

I hear a click, and a moment later, Freddie was in the room, his presence alone instantly taking some of the edge off. He stayed silent, keeping his eyes on me as he kicked off his shoes and took off his fur coat while placing his suitcase behind the door, and I took a moment to admire him in his green and pink floral dress shirt and white dress pants. He then approached me warily.

"How are you doing, lovey?" he asks me.

I shrug my shoulders, not really having an answer, and he sighs, climbing onto the bed behind me.

"Deaky darling, come on now," he says almost pleadingly, rubbing and massaging my shoulders. "I've had a very long and tiring flight, plus the two and a half hours it took to get here just to be with you. I understand you're going through a lot right now with what happened to your mum and I just want to help you. Please tell me what's bothering you, darling."

I shake my head. "You wouldn't understand, Freddie."

_Real smooth there, Johnny Boy._

Freddie blew out an exasperated sigh to my response and climbed off the bed. Standing in front of me, he tilts my chin upwards, gently forcing me to look at him. "Maybe a nice warm bath would do the trick, hmmm. It'll help make you forget about all the bad stuff. You're all tensed up and I'm worried about you, darling. You're not acting like yourself anymore and it's beginning to scare me."

_Find us, John. He took us..._

I ignore the voices and focus on Freddie and the alluring scent of his cologne as it invades my nostrils, bringing alive all my senses, my body suddenly coming to attention while his long skillful fingers undo the buttons of my dress shirt. His face is close to mine and he's watching me, watching my reactions. I close what little distance is between us and tentatively press my lips against his full ones which are so soft.

He pauses. "Deaky," he says, his tone of voice almost sounding like a warning. "It's been a long day."

"I want you, Freddie," I say in a hushed voice, pressing another kiss to his lips. "Please?"

He stares at me with his dark mysterious eyes, almost like he's considering it and it makes me wish I knew just what he was thinking about. Hesitantly, I reach out with shaky fingers and un-tuck his dress shirt from the waistband of his pants and begin to unbutton it, slowly revealing his beautiful chest and stomach that I love so much. I push the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, and it's then that I realize just how long it's been since we've done this. With all the stressful touring, traveling, and whatnot, we haven't had much time for real intimacy, except for the exchange of late night kissing and cuddling, or the occasional hand jobs and blow jobs. Now we had all the time in the world.

Leaning forward, I place soft kisses to his stomach, and hear his sharp intake of breath when my tongue darts out into his bellybutton.

"Please?" I repeat again as I trail kisses down the center line of soft hair on his torso. "I need you."

"Fucking hell, the things you do to me, darling," he mutters. 

He gently pushes me down onto the bed, and straddles me while resuming his task on my shirt. I become aware of his hard on poking me in the thigh through his pants, which makes my own cock twitch to attention. His lips are then on mine, his tongue invading my mouth. He tastes sweet. _Oh, I've missed this so bloody much._ I reach out and run my fingers through his soft dark hair, briefly aware of his nimble fingers undoing the buttons on my pants. 

His kiss deepens, becoming more heated, more intense, more urgent as his hand slips into the waistband of my boxers, and I moan into his mouth when he wraps his fingers around my cock. But I want more. I need more. Without managing to break our kiss, he hovers over me and I pull my bell bottoms, along with my boxers, the rest of the way down, kicking them off and onto the floor.

Breaking away, he trails kisses across my jaw, down my neck, my chest and stomach, heading south towards my hardened cock. _Oh._ I throw my head back and utter out a strangled cry as his warm mouth envelops me. Keeping his eyes on me, he swirls his tongue around the tip, taking me deeper into his mouth and to the back of his throat. _Bloody hell._

"Ahh...Freddie," I breathe out. "Please."

He makes a humming noise which sends vibrations all through me, causing my hips to buck as I arch off the bed.

"Oh god, please!" I beg.

He releases me from his mouth. "Please what, darling?"

"I want you," I say as I reach to push his dress pants off his hips.

Without taking his eyes off mine, he stands from the bed and takes them off along with his boxers, and I'm rendered speechless by the sight of his gorgeous naked form. He slowly crawls back onto the bed, and his hard cock brushes up against my stomach as our lips meet again in a hungry kiss. I hear the cap of a lube bottle pop open and I know what's coming next when Freddie breaks away again to coat his fingers in the clear jelly like substance.

When he's done, he kisses the corner of my mouth. "Breathe darling," he whispers.

Lifting my hips, his hand finds it's way to my backside where he thrusts one finger inside of me. I gasp at the sensation. _Ahh_ _._ He adds a second finger and I wince, trying my best not to squirm from the uncomfortable feeling. He kisses me deeply, distracting me from the initial pain of stretching me open. Not long after, a third finger was added and I whimper and moan against Freddie's mouth, and soon the pain turns to pleasure as he works his magic. Then his fingers are gone and I watch as he prepares himself and positions himself between my spread legs, but I suddenly realize I'm still tangled up in my shirt. 

He giggles. "Need some help there, darling?"

"No, I've got it," I say, managing to get it off the rest of the way, and his eyes widen.

"Darling, what happened to your arm?" he asks, examining the plaster that had dried blood seeping through it.

I swallow nervously. I had completely forgotten about getting attacked inside the hallway closet earlier today. He reaches out to touch it, but I stop him.

"Don't," I say, suddenly feeling scared again. I don't want him to see what was done to me.

"Lovey please," he says softly. "I want to see it. I want to know what happened. Can I please see it?"

_There's no escaping this, Johnny Boy. Might as well let him see what you did to yourself._

Despite not wanting to listen to the voice, I let him look anyway, and very gently, he peels the medical tape off and slowly pulls away the plaster to reveal the claw marks I had received. _Please believe me that I didn't do it._

Freddie gasps at the gruesome marks marred into my skin. "What did this to you, darling?" he asks.

I turn my head and look away. I can't answer him. I can't say the name. I'm simply too scared.

"Was it _him_?" he whispers. "Did _he_ do this to you?"

I nod and cover my mouth, my whole body shaking in fear as I gasp out a gut wrenching sob, and I can't control the tears that spill from my eyes. 

Freddie lifts me, pulling me into his naked body and wraps his arms around me. "Shhh don't cry darling, everything's going to be alright," he coos in a soft voice. "I'll protect you. I won't let him take you."

He rocks me back and forth in his lap, cradling me close to him while placing soft and tender kisses to my face, my jawline, and my lips.

I kiss him back, desperate to taste him and feel him inside of me. "Freddie...please," I breathe out against his lips. "I need you so much right now."

"Shhhh, hush now, darling," he whispers as he moves me to straddle his lap. "Freddie's here to make all the bad stuff go away."

Positioning himself at my entrance, he slowly eases his way inside of me, his mouth forming an 'O' to just how tight I am. I gasp at the feeling, my fingers digging into his arms from the sharp pain as he pushes past the tight ring of muscle. The burning feeling was overwhelming and even though we've done this countless times before, I still wasn't use to how big Freddie was. He takes notice of my discomfort and pauses in his movement to give me some time to adjust to the sensation before slowly pushing himself all the way in. He's always gentle with me and always takes his time.

"Ready?" he asks after a few more moments, his soft voice.

I nod and our eyes lock as he pulls out and pushes back in, setting a slow and gentle rhythm. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and move my hips with him to each thrust. Panting and moaning soon filled the silence of the small motel room, and whispers of how great it all felt slipped past our lips. Freddie picked up the pace, thrusting harder and faster. With one hand holding my hip, he pumps me with the other, and I began to lose myself in the pleasure and I start to forget about all the bad stuff, almost as if none of it ever existed. There was only me and Freddie and this bond between us. There was only us and no one else. No one else existed to us in this moment. Not even the Boogeyman. Being with Freddie, here in his arms, I felt safe from the lurking danger.

My thoughts suddenly scatter as I feel myself stiffen with that familiar build-up deep within my stomach, and I know it won't be long. Freddie notices the change and picks up the pace, thrusting into me faster while also pumping me towards completion at the same time, and a moment later, I let out a long breathy moan as I come, spilling out all over Freddie's hand and our stomachs. I collapse into him and with one final thrust, Freddie follows and cries out my name as he spills inside of me, holding me tightly as we ride out the waves of our orgasms together.

*****

We lay together in each others arms, our legs entwined as we bask in the sweaty afterglow, too lazy and much too bloody tired to get cleaned up. I felt loose-limbed and relaxed, and I could feel myself drifting a bit from the slow rise and fall of Freddie's warm chest.

"Darling, what do you say we clean ourselves up and have a nice hot bath now, hmmm?" he suggests.

I glance up at the front man with a lazy smile as I run my fingers through his dark chest hair. "A bath does sound nice."

"I have a bottle of Moët & Chandon in my suitcase, too," he says as he sits up, grabbing the box of tissues from the bedside table. "How about you get us a bucket of ice from the machine outside while I get the bath started for us. Then we can have our own little 'screw the rest of the world' party. Sound good?"

I sit up as well, watching as he wipes the aftermath of our sex off his chest and stomach, and once he's done, he turns to me, cleaning me off as well.

"There we go darling, all clean," he says.

He kisses me once more and stood from the bed, heading towards the bathroom. Locating my shirt, boxers, and pants from the floor, I redressed myself.

_He's too good for you, Johnny Boy. Too sweet and too giving. Don't you think you're taking advantage of him with your so called Boogeyman theory? I mean he just cancelled the rest of the tour for your little pathetic sorry ass._

I frown at the thought. _He was only worried about me and wanted to help._

_And then you freaked him out by running away from the house you were supposed to stay the night in._

I realized the voice was right. The whole point of this was to stay in the house. But that was before Tim showed up with his backpack containing all those missing people posters, the hallucinations of those lost children, and the voices begging me to help them. I just couldn't face all that now. It became too much and I had to accept the fact that I had failed in my mission to face my fears.

_What would Dr. Newton think of you now?_

Hearing the bath water running, I slip into Freddie's fur coat and grab the ice bucket and our room key off the table, then head outside into the chilly night, thankful for the lighted path that led to the ice machine which was just across the way. 

Once at the machine, I open it up and begin scooping ice out and into the bucket. Going for another scoop, I suddenly notice how unusually quiet it is tonight. Barely any cars were in the car park. Even though I felt thoroughly fucked and relaxed, it still made me feel uneasy. I go back to scooping out more ice to fill the silence with some sort of noise to keep my mind at ease.

Over the noise of the ice, I hear a sound from behind me, and I spun around to see that it was just another family pulling up. A young woman got out and pulled suitcases out from the back while a man gently picked up a sleeping boy from the back seat and carried him across the car park with the woman following close behind.

The man spots me and gave a friendly nod. "Evening mate," he says.

I return the greeting with a small smile and wave, watching as they pass through the shadows and darkness without a care in the world. They were safe. Nothing jumped out and grabbed them or took them away. Seeing them made me think back to how many holidays we went on when it was all five of us, before all the bad stuff started happening, before I had become afraid of certain things. After Robert died, my parents didn't really take us on very many family vacations, except to the beach and long drives through the UK. We never visited anywhere else.

 _"There's a name for your fear of darkness, John,"_ I hear Dr. Newton's voice say to me as if he were standing right next to me. _"In fact, there's several names for it such as achluophobia, sciophobia, nyctophobia. These things can be treated. They can be dealt with. But only you have the power to defeat them."_

I breathe out a tired sigh. I know they can be beaten. I just wish I knew exactly how to beat these fears...

*****

 **Hehehe.** 😁 **I wonder what's gonna happen next.** 😉


	13. He Took Him

Setting off across the large open field with a bag containing a nice warm meal, Veronica Tetzlaff headed towards the old Deacon house. She had been pleasantly surprised by the reappearance of her best friend from childhood, John Deacon. Meeting old friends after a long time wasn't always a sure thing, but this time it seemed to be. She couldn't help the thoughts of how handsome he had become and she had to admit that she had a crush on him as well. Sure he still seemed a bit skittish and shy. He had always been that way ever since they were kids, but despite that, she still found him to be gentle and caring.

As promised, she had prepared a plate of dinner for John after feeding her own brother. Turkey sandwich on toasted French bread, mashed potatoes with gravy, corn on the cob, and for dessert, a piece of chocolate cake.

Seeing that all the lights were still on, the young woman walked up the steps of the porch and knocked on the door, and waited. Then waited some more. She knocked on the door again. His car was still in the drive and every single light was on inside the house. Something she remembered about him. When they were kids, she remembered John always preferred to have all the lights on. Even when they had sleepovers or camped out in the field during warm summer nights. 

So had he gone to sleep already with all the lights on? It wasn't that late in the night, but he did have a long and tiring day from his mum's funeral.

Veronica reached out and tried the doorknob and was a bit surprised when it turned easily in her hand. She opened the door a few inches and peered inside. "John?"

Receiving no answer, she opened the door the rest of the way and stepped inside while looking around at all the tools and whatnot all over the main entryway.

"John?" she calls out again, her voice echoing around the room as she closes the door behind her. "It's Veronica."

Walking in farther, her gaze landed on the living room floor where she noticed tons and tons of flyers, newspaper clippings, and sheets of paper of every size and color scattered all over the place, all of which were advertising missing people. Veronica felt a sudden chill that raised goosebumps on her skin as something in her mind told her this didn't seem right. 

"John, where are you?" she calls out, a nervous edge in her voice.

Thinking that perhaps he was in the kitchen, she turned away from all the missing people flyers and made her way across the foyer, pushing her way past the plastic sheeting. But there was still no sign of John as she entered the kitchen. 

She put the bag of food down on the kitchen table. "John?" she calls out into the silence again.

The house had that creepy empty feel to it, which seemed to put her more on edge with her mind telling her to get out of there. She did her best to shake it off, telling herself that it was just a really old house and there was nothing to be scared of. 

She began to wonder where he'd gone of to since he didn't tell her he'd be leaving and had known that she was bringing by dinner for him. So instead of just leaving, she figured she'll have a look around. He had to be somewhere around here. Maybe he was messing with her. The thought made her grin but at the same time, it also made her nervous.

Leaving the kitchen, she stopped at the foot of the large staircase. "John, are you up there?" she calls out.

A breeze from outside rattled against one of the windows and she felt her heart skip a bit to the sudden noise. She swallowed and fought back her fears of wanting to just run away from here.

_Get a hold of yourself, girl,_ she thinks to herself. _It's just an old house. It can't hurt you..._

~*****~

With the bucket of ice, I head back towards our room, eager to have a nice warm bath with Freddie and another possible round as his sex drive was quite amazing. I shut the door behind me, noticing the semi darkness coming from the lamp by the bed with Freddie's boxer briefs placed over the top for a mood lighting effect. _Mmmm sexy._ I giggle and shake my head.

Rattling the ice in the bucket, I place it on the table near the mini bar where a big bottle of Moët & Chandon is waiting. Unfortunately we had no champagne glasses with us, so I had to settle on the red plastic Dixie cups that were complimentary of the motel. 

~*****~

Veronica climbed the two staircases, occasionally calling out John's name but still got no response, and the fear she felt in the back of her mind began to rise, making her worry what she might find up here.

After all these years, the layout was still the same and familiar to her. John's old room was at the end of the hallway where she always remembered it being.

"John?"

Suddenly she heard a noise and froze as she listened for it again, then heard it once more. This time it was an indistinct muffled sound. Biting back at the fear and anxiety gnawing away deep inside of her, she went into the master bedroom. The room was dark except for the trickle of moonlight that shined through the double French doors.

The room was relatively empty with just a few pieces of old furniture and an antique vanity dresser. No one else was in here though, and she couldn't find any source to the noise she had heard. So she waited, and after a few moments, the sound was heard again, this time from the closet.

"Come on John, this isn't funny anymore," she says.

~*****~

Our drinks in hand, I head for the washroom. "Drinks are ready Freddie," I announce, then giggle at the little rhyme I made.

Freddie didn't respond and envisioned him waiting in there for me, his beautiful body submerged in the water. I slowly push open the door, clouds of steam billowing out as I step inside and I immediately stop in my tracks to see that Freddie was nowhere to be seen. 

I blink in confusion. "Freddie?"

Water rippled softly around in the porcelain tub, but no one was in there. So where had Freddie gone off to? _Unless..._

The drinks slip from my hand and fall to the tiled floor as I feel panic rise. "Freddie?!" I call out frantically, running back into the main room and to the door. "Freddie!"

The car park was still empty. No sign of the front man. I go back into the room, glancing around wildly for some sort of answer, some sort of sign. My eyes land on the bed skirt. Dropping to my knees, I force myself to look underneath the bed. There's nothing but shadow. _This can't be bloody happening. I was only gone for maybe five minutes._

I climb back to my feet and make another scan of the room, and it's then that I suddenly realize there's the one place I didn't look and didn't want to acknowledge when we got here, and that was the closet. I slowly turn, my vision zeroing in on the door as my mind starts to race. _No, he wouldn't be in there. He wouldn't play that kind of trick on me._

_Are you sure, Johnny Boy? Maybe he wants to upset you and make you face your fears. Maybe he wants to prank you._

_No, no, no, there's no way Freddie would ever do something like that._

But I still had to check just to make sure. As I near the closet, all my old fears come rushing back, flashing before my eyes with images of Robert and my fathers deaths, and all those missing children. _He_ was in there. _He_ had to be. And now _he_ was waiting to take me. Which meant _he_ was real after all. All these years I spent working with Dr. Newton, trying to convince myself that it never happened and that I imagined _him_ killing my father and brother. But now, I was doubting I imagined it all. My father didn't die of a heart attack and my brother's drowning wasn't accidental. _He_ got them and now _he_ had come back to take away someone I love so dearly.

The mere thought made me not want to go near that closet, but I had to. If Freddie was in trouble, I had to save him. _But how?_

With a deep shaky breath, I reach out for the doorknob, and glance over my shoulder one last time to check if I had missed looking somewhere else, but there was nothing. I look back and pull open the door, and inside was pure darkness, a swirling shadowy abyss of motion. I reach in after it and step into the darkness, and suddenly I feel like I'm falling into nothingness, and I scream as I burst through another doorway and hit the floor.

"Bloody hell, John, you scared the shit out of me!" I hear a female voice scream out. 

_Veronica? What the hell?_ I scramble to my feet and look around, feeling completely lost and disoriented. _I was just at the motel and now I'm not._

"How long were you waiting in there?" she giggles. "Nice fur coat by the way. Looks good on you. Come on down to the kitchen, I brought you some dinner."

"How did I get..." I trail off, confused. "Where's Freddie?"

"What?" she asks, her smile fading.

"H-H-He was just here--I mean we were just there," I say in a shaky voice as I look around the room, instantly realizing I'm back in the house. 

"You're not making any sense," she says. "What happened?"

"W-We went t-to this hotel--I-I mean motel, a-a-and..." I run my hands through my hair, utterly baffled. _What the fuck is happening?!_

"John, what are you talking about?" Veronica asks worriedly. "What motel?"

_Oh my god, no!_ I push past her and run from the room, pausing at the staircase landing.

"John, what is it?" she asks, running up behind me. "What's wrong?"

"Come with me!" I exclaim, grabbing her hand as I quickly bolt down the stairs.

"What's going on, where are we going?" she asks.

"I need you to see what I see!"

We ran to my car, and quickly fishing out my keys from the pocket of my pants, I jump into the drivers seat while Veronica gets in as well, and I reverse down the driveway and out into the main roadway so fast that the tires squeal on the asphalt when I accelerate.

"John," Veronica says, her voice sounding a bit frightened as she gripped onto the dashboard with both hands. "Maybe you ought to slow down a bit."

But I don't listen as my mind is in complete turmoil with a million thoughts spinning through my head to where I couldn't even grasp onto a single one. I felt too far gone and had now retreated into myself. I felt completely numb. The John Deacon everyone knew and loved was now gone, replaced by an empty shell of a man. I didn't know who I was anymore.

_Congratulations, Johnny Boy. You've officially gone mad._

"I took this same exact drive," I mumble, keeping my eyes on the dark road ahead, looking past the broken windshield. "I recognize it."

"John...please tell me what's going on," she says in a quiet voice. "Where are we going?"

"I don't know!" I snap, glancing over at her, causing her to jump a little at my response. I must look bloody crazy right about now but I simply don't give a fuck anymore. "I-I don't know anything right now," I continue. "I don't know where I've gone or what the fuck I've done! I just... I don't know anymore." 

Veronica remained silent. Up ahead, I spot the familiar neon sign of the motel.

"That's it right there," I mutter.

"What?"

"That's the motel," I say, recognizing the empty lit up car park. "This is where I was at with Freddie."

"I thought he was on tour," she says.

"He came back."

_Or maybe you imagined it all..._

I pull into the car park and cut the engine, and immediately jump out with Veronica following behind me towards the well lit walkway. I slowly walk past each room, recognizing the numbers on the doors.

"Maybe you should check with the front desk first," Veronica says.

But I ignore her and continue walking the pathway. _I was here._ Finally I stop in front of the room Freddie and I were in, and reaching into his fur coat, I fish out our room key. The number on it matches the one on the door. I look over at Veronica. Her brow is furrowed in confusion as she looks at the key in my hand before looking up at the door. I turn back and stick the key into the lock and turn it. The door opened and we step inside the room.

Freddie's shoes and suitcase were still by the door, and his boxer briefs were still draped over the lamp shade. On the table by the mini bar, the bottle of Moët & Chandon sat in the same spot where I had left it.

Veronica stood in the doorway for a few moments, watching me look around the room. 

"We were here," I say.

I look down at the bed. His dress shirt and pants were in a pile on the floor, and the sheets were still scattered as I remember the sex and remember feeling Freddie's hands and lips all over me, him inside of me, and our moans of how good it felt.

I hear his soft voice in my head, the images of us flashing through my mind as our sweat slicked bodies moved together in perfect sync. _"Come for me, darling..."_

_"Freddie!"_ I hear myself moan, the image of me climaxing appearing before my eyes.

The box of tissues used to clean up our aftermath still lay in the middle with crumpled up tissues surrounding it. 

Veronica moved past me, deciding not to acknowledge the bed as she made her way towards the washroom. I break my stare away from the evidence of our sex when I hear the sound of plastic cups rolling across the tiled floor, and looking over, I see the spilled drinks I had dropped. 

"What the hell happened in here, John?" she asks me.

I walk up behind her. "I don't know. I left to go get some ice and then--"

Veronica moves aside and my sentence cuts off as we both catch sight of a dark red bloody hand print on the edge of the white porcelain tub. _No._

"Oh my god..." I breathe out, realization hitting me like a bucket of cold water. "He took him."

"What?" she gasps, her eyes wide. "Who took him?"

I shake my head and turn away. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Which was true. No one was going to believe me that the Boogeyman took away Freddie...


	14. I Need Your Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor drug use.

**The above song really helped me in writing out** **this** **chapter. In a way I think it really fits John's situation. Also t** **his chapter is a bit short but enjoy anyway and please excuse mistakes I don't catch in proofreading.** ❤

*****

"John," Veronica says, backing away from the washroom door. "Please take me back home...now"

I take one last look at the bloody hand print. It's fresh and I definitely know that it wasn't there before. I feel dread welling up in my gut. I came here with Freddie and something happened to him. I just don't know what exactly. But I had been here and then all of a sudden, I stepped through that shadowy abyss in the closet and found myself back in my childhood home with Veronica.

*****

Staring at the road ahead, my mind still in turmoil, I drove toward home. Veronica sat in silence, huddled up against the passenger side door as if she were afraid of me. A thick cloud of tension hung in the air between us.

"Veronica, I..." I begin, not knowing what to really say. "I'm sorry for losing it back there, I just--"

"John, where did that blood come from?" she asks.

I shake my head, not having an answer.

"Well who do you think took Freddie?"

I knew the answer to that, I just didn't know how to explain it to her. Didn't know where to start. I knew enough from experience that if I did, I'd sound like a crazy person. Or maybe I'm already crazy and this is all one big hallucination. Maybe Veronica isn't here with me. Maybe my mum isn't dead and I'm still on tour with the band and this is just some sort of fever dream. Perhaps none of this is real. But all of this felt way too real.

"John...did something bad happen between you two?" she asks, pressing further on the subject. "I mean, if you accidentally hurt him--"

"I didn't hurt Freddie!" I interrupt her. I would never in my life hurt him. I love him.

_But would you hurt him if you had to, Johnny Boy?_

_For fuck sake just please leave me alone! I would NEVER EVER hurt him!_

"Are you sure nothing happened?" she questions me.

I clench my jaw, trying to keep down the wave of emotions. I felt like screaming and crying. I wanted to throw a strop. "They all told me I was making it up, it was all in my head, that it never happened," I tell her. "All my life...ever since my brother and father died. They told me over and over again. They made fun of me for it. But they were all wrong. I was right."

Up ahead on the left, Veronica's house came into view. I slow down and stop.

"Hey," she says in a soft voice. "Are you going to be ok?"

Her question makes me want to burst out laughing. Will I be ok? I wasn't sure. My best friend and band mate, my lover, was missing and I felt like a complete and utter failure that I wasn't able to protect him.

"Look I think maybe you just need to get a good nights rest and figure this all out in the morning," she says as she opens the passenger door. "Goodnight John."

She slammed the door shut and ran to the front door of her house, casting another glance in my direction before dashing inside.

I stayed sitting there for a moment, tightly gripping the steering wheel with shaky hands, trying to figure out what the hell I could do. I needed answers. I needed help in finding Freddie. But who could I turn to? Freddie came here alone and I had no idea where Roger and Brian were at. 

_Come on now, think. Maybe there's a clue somewhere._ I dig my hand through one of the pockets of Freddie's fur coat and my fingers find a scrap of paper. I pull it out and see that it's only the address I gave to Freddie, and on the back is a phone number that he no doubt got from someone at the club we went to back in New York. I search the other pocket and fish out a packet of cocaine.

_There you go, Johnny Boy, that'll calm your nerves._

Yes, this will help. With my fingers still shaky, I manage to pour some out onto the back of my hand and sniff, welcoming the itchy burning feeling as it shoots up my nasal cavity and into my system, and I instantly feel it's effects. I lean my head back against the seat in euphoria, my eyes drifting up to Veronica's house, and there behind an upstairs window, I suddenly saw a silhouette of a shadowy figure dart across the room, and I felt panic grip at my heart. _He's in her house and he's come to get her!_

"Veronica!" I scream out, leaping from the car and up to the porch where I start banging on the door with all my might. "Veronica, open up!"

Her face appeared in the window. "Go home, John!"

"Ron, please open the door!" I beg.

"Get off the porch!"

"He's in your house, I saw him!"

The door opened up and Veronica angrily pushed me away. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" she demands.

"He's in your house," I repeat.

"There's no one in there besides me and Victor!" she says.

"But I saw it!" I insist. "It was upstairs. You need to get away from here."

She looked at me in disbelief. "What are you--" she trails off in realization. "You think _he's_ in there? Listen to me carefully, John. I understand you're still grieving over your brother and fathers deaths, and I'm sorry, ok? But what you claimed happen to them did not happen. You made it all up in your head. He's not real. It's just a story. When will you get that though your head?"

_But he's real, I fucking saw him!_

"Veronica please--"

"No," she says, cutting me off. "John, you're sick. You need help and I wish I could help you, but I-I can't. Now if you don't leave right this minute, I'm calling the authorities. Just please go."

"But I saw _him_ ," I say.

Veronica turned away from me. "I'm going back inside now. Please leave."

She disappeared back inside her house, closing the door behind her, leaving me a mess of desperation and shaky nerves on her walkway.

"I need help..." I whisper to myself.

Going back to my car, I got in and pulled away from Veronica's house. I couldn't sit there any longer. I had to do something about this. Freddie needed me and I needed to do something about the Boogeyman, and if no one would believe me, then it looked like it had to be me to do it.

Driving along the moonlit countryside road, I notice a thick fog had fallen, making the late night all the more eerie. Streets and farmhouses that held familiarity in daylight looked strange in the mist. It made everything appear gloomy and dark just like my mood.

On instinct, I suddenly found myself at the park I remember from my childhood. The very same field of grass, baseball diamond, bleachers, and a playground area were still there. A small shack that had once sold burgers, hotdogs, and ice cream during games or the Fourth of July celebrations was now boarded up, abandoned.

I drive slowly along the stretch of the empty car park with my window down as I try my best to see everything past all the white misty fog. There on the swing set, slowly swinging back and forth, I see a familiar head of light brown wavy hair and the same grey and red striped t-shirt, khaki shorts, and light baby blue jacket. Tim.

Seeing him, I felt relief wash over me in the possibility that he could help me figure this all out. I park and dig into the glove box for my torch I use for emergency car situations. Getting out, memories of this place came flooding back as I made my way across the damp grass. Times when Veronica and I spent hot summer days here having fun on the merry go round until we felt dizzy. Swinging on the swing set and having competitions to see who could swing the highest. And then watching ball games from the bleachers with my family, back when we were all happy.

Tim glances up at the approach of my torch beam, his expression a look of surprise before he see's it's just me and he gives me a small smile.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" he asks.

I shake my head, realizing I haven't slept much since leaving New York. "Nope," I say.

"It really shows," he says, looking up at my face.

I scoff at his observation. I bet it does. I bet I look ghastly, unwell and fucked up on drugs.

"On nights when I can't sleep or I think he's in my house, I come out here," Tim says, staring up at the starry night sky. "I stay out here all night until the sun comes up. Then I feel safe and everything's all right again."

"What about your parents?" I ask.

"What about them?"

"Don't they come looking for you?"

He shakes his head. "Nah. They know where I'm at."

I sit down next to him in the empty swing. A brief silence hangs in the cool night air between us as Tim continues to slowly swing back and forth, his gaze on the stars in the clear sky above.

"I lied to you," I say to him. "About my brother and father."

Tim looked over at me. "Why?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I was too scared. But tonight he took someone very important to me. He's going to keep taking people close to me. I need your help. We're the only two that believe in him."

Tim suddenly stopped swinging and looked down at the ground. "I have to go home."

~*****~

In her bedroom, Veronica sat on the edge of her bed with a phone pressed up against her ear as it rang and rang on the other end. Finally the familiar voice, although groggy, of John's uncle answered.

_"Hello?"_

"Hi it's Veronica Tetzlaff," she says. "Ummm, sorry to be bothering you so late at night but something's going on with John and I'm worried about him."

_"_ _Ahh_ _jeez, what's he done now?"_ he asks.

"I was out with him tonight and he wasn't acting quite like himself," she explains, deciding to leave out the part of their trip to the motel and the bloody hand print on the tub. "Could you go over there and maybe check up on him? I'm sorry."

_"Yes yes, of course,"_ he replies. _"No need to apologize either. I'll be right over."_

Veronica breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

_"Anytime. Talk to you later, yeah?"_

She smiled. "Yeah. Bye."

She hung up, and as she put the phone back down on the receiver, a noise was heard from the stairwell just outside her bedroom. Thinking it was Victor needing something, she went out into the hallway...


	15. How Do You Stop Him?

Without another word, the young boy stood up from the swing and headed off across the playground.

"Tim!" I call after him but he doesn't look back.

I didn't want him to go since he seemed to have way more knowledge of the Boogeyman than anyone else I've ever known. The shadow man was an obvious obsession of his. Mine too, but I've always been too scared to study him. Tim however had that collection of missing children posters and only he knew how to stop all this. He knew how to dealt with it head on and I wanted to find out the answers.

I jump off the swing and take off after Tim as he approaches an old broken fence. "Oi! Tim!" He stops and turns as I run up next to him. "I opened up your backpack. I saw all the articles and posters. I just need to ask you something."

"What is it?" he asks.

"How do you stop him? How do you beat him?"

Tim cast his eyes down at the ground. "I...I'm not sure."

"But you must know," I insist, bending down to his level so he can look me in the eye. "Please tell me."

Finally his eyes meet mine but he looks afraid to tell me. He chewed his lower lip, shifting in place uncomfortably while wringing his hands together. He knew and just wasn't going to tell me. I stood back up, biting back the disappointment and frustration that was flowing through my veins.

I look away from him, my gaze landing on a small house hidden by trees and partially obscured by the thick fog on the other side of the broken chain link fence where Tim was supposedly going. The place was long abandoned but looked all too familiar. 

"I recognize this house," I say. "I've been here before. Was this where you were going?"

Tim doesn't reply as I walk towards the opening in the fence, my eyes fixated on the old rundown house with it's sagging roof and paint peeled shingles. I climb through the opening, Tim following close behind me. Getting closer, I see that all the windows are boarded up and covered in graffiti.

"I use to come here as a teenager and talk to the old man that lived here," I say, remembering more with every step I took. "The whole town said he was crazy. They claimed he went mad after his youngest son went missing but he was just trying to find the answers to his disappearance." 

The front door was sealed shut and padlocked with an old condemned notice nailed to it. The window next to the door, which was long since broken, had a couple of wooden boards nailed over it. I grab hold of the first board, ignoring the splinters cutting into my skin from the weather rotted wood, and I pull. Nails squeak as it easily gives away. I toss it to the ground and get to work on removing the next one.

A black empty space lay before me in the open window, causing shivers to run down my spine at the thought of going in there. I swallow back my nervousness and hoist myself up on the windowsill and climb inside. Then turning back, I offer a hand to Tim and lift him up into the window. The room we stood in was pitch black, deeply shadowed and smelled of heavy mildew and mold. I draw my torch from the pocket of Freddie's coat and click it on, shining it around the room. Plaster and dust from the rotted ceiling littered the carpeted floor, and the door just across the room was removed off it's hinges, leaned up against the wall where the wallpaper was covered with mold.

"Are you scared?" Tim asks me.

"Yes," I admit. Very scared actually.

"Me too," he says.

I wasn't ashamed in admitting the truth I felt about this place. It was indeed scary. Frightening actually.

"Where do you end up when... _he_ takes you away?" he asks.

"I don't know," I say as I continue looking around. "But I imagine it to be a dark and frightening place." It suddenly made me think of Freddie and how scared he must be right now.

_Hang in there Freddie, I'm going find the truth and I'm going to save you._

We move on from this room and make our way down a short hallway that lead to living room and dining room combination. Floorboards were torn out and scattered everywhere and holes were punched into the rotted walls. Bare wires dangled from the ceiling where light fixtures had once been. The bright beam of my torch swept across an old torn up leather couch, it's springs pushing through the cushions.

Next was the kitchen. Appliances were still in their place, dusty and old looking, and the sink and counter surface was littered in rusted silverware and broken plates. 

Memories of the first time I was in this house came flooding back to me. It was the summer of 1965. I had just turned fourteen years old and was really into the music scene. It was my escape from my mum's declining health and harsh childhood. The adults warned all the younger children to stay away from this place, telling others of an old mad man that lived here who was dangerous. I never saw him in that way. Although lonely, he looked like a normal old man in his mid 60s. Each time I saw him, he was always outside working in his garden or tuning a bass guitar which eventually piqued my interest. He would always smile at me, too and it was a genuine friendly smile. Nothing creepy about it. 

Then one day, he invited me over while he was tuning his bass guitar and brought me inside this kitchen for a glass of lemonade and talk about our musical interests. He had an impressive record collection. I then had asked him if I could play the bass he had. So we went back outside and sat on the porch and kids playing in the park that day heard me play and came over into the yard. Eventually the adults soon came by as well and were so impressed by my skills that they no longer feared the lonely old man after he told us the heartbreaking story of his missing son who had disappeared five years prior...

We move onto the next room, one I had never been in before, that looked to be a den as it had no windows. Just the doorway we had come in through with another open doorway across the room. The air inside was musty and smelled of old decay. I shine my torch along the walls, seeing that it was covered in newspaper clippings dated back to 1960, the headlines reading things such as " **Local Boy Goes Missing From His Home** " " **Still No Leads In Case Of Missing Boy** " and " **£25,000 Reward To Help Search For Missing Child**." 

The next room sent shivers down my spine as I swept my torch along the walls and ceiling, it's beam revealing a dark twist from the rest of the house. Tim gasped and grabbed onto my hand while moving closer to my side. I swallow the sadness down, feeling pained by the obvious tragedy this man had suffered in doing all this. Everywhere we looked were ancient bible verses, poems, both demonic and sad, and a bunch of other words written out in black marker that I couldn't quite comprehend. Words like 'bauk,' 'mörkö,' and 'uomo nero.' Perhaps it was another language but I wasn't sure.

"What do all those words mean?" Tim asks.

"I'm not sure," I say as I continue looking around. "My guess though was that he was trying to understand it all."

I sweep the torch light slowly along the wall until coming upon an open doorway, the door itself missing from it's hinges. Inside, scrawled out all over the walls in black ink and written over and over again, was one single phrase that chilled me to the bone. 

_Face him, he's coming._

From what I could see, it had to have been written at least a thousand times over, maybe even more. I began to worry about Tim having to see all of this. He stuck close to me, his hand squeezing mine, his breathing shallow. In the light, his cheeks were wet with silent tears. I was about to comfort him, tell him everything was going to be ok when the shadow of my torch beam fell on an object directly behind us.

An ordinary wooden chair, coated with dust, facing directly towards the closet that had no door, and I could tell it had been placed here for a purpose. My eyes widen to the leather straps attached to the armrests and legs. Restraints.

Tim sniffed, his voice shaky as he spoke. "He...He sat here...waiting for him. Trying to bring him out."

What this man put himself through was truly heartbreaking. Horrifying images race through my mind of the old man strapped to the chair, terror in his eyes, screaming in pure agony and pain as he waited for the shadow man to show himself, show him the truth in where his son was at. 

I suddenly realize Tim had stepped away from me as I no longer felt his hand in mine, and looking around, I spot him in the far corner of the room, standing immobilized towards the wall as if in a trance like state where more papers had been tacked onto the wall. From here, I couldn't see what they said, so I stepped closer for a better look, and instantly I felt my heart drop in terror.

"My father was trying to find me for a long time," Tim says, his voice distant. "He was trying to beat it..."

My hand shook as I swept the beam of my torch along the papers, all of which were pictures of Tim on missing people posters with the words 'Have You Seen This Boy?' in bold lettering. I suddenly realize this was the same missing boy I saw on that brick wall in New York, the same boy who's been missing since 1960.

"Oh my god..." I breathe out, barely able to get the words out as I stare at Tim in shock. "You..."

"You have to go home," Tim declares, turning around to face me, his expression serious. "You have to go back to the place where it all first started. That's where you face him. My father got too scared and couldn't face him."

I glance back up at all the pictures of Tim, smiling and looking happy with bright eyes, and I feel my heart break for this poor child and the impact it left on his father.

"I want to help you," I say to him, my voice shaky as tears began to stream down my face.

His bottom lip quivered as more tears ran down his cheeks. "You can't," he sobs. "It's already too late for me. Only you can help yourself and your friend. He's in great danger and he needs you. You have to be brave and face _him_ before dawn breaks."

I knew he was right. In order to save Freddie, I had to be brave and face my biggest fear.

Wiping away my tears, I smile at him, grateful for the path that he had shown me. "Thank you."

Through his tears, he smiled back at me as I turned away from him to leave. As I reach the doorway, I glance back just to see his smiling face one last time, but he was gone, almost like he had never been here...


	16. He's Waiting

It was nearing midnight when William pulled up outside the old Deacon house. On the foggy drive over, Veronica's late night call concerning his nephew had him worrying for the young man's well being. This certainly wasn't like John as he was more of a quiet and rather shy man. He'd been that way ever since he was a child. And although Veronica didn't exactly go into much detail on what the issue was or what he had done, he was still worried.

With a key of his own, he unlocked the front door and stepped inside, noticing that every single light was on.

"John?!" he calls out, closing the door behind him as he shivers from the cold. "Oi John, are you here?! Veronica just called me! Said she was worried about you and wanted me to come by and check up on you!"

Receiving no response, he first looked in the living room and his brow furrowed to the missing people posters and newspaper articles that were scattered all over the floor. He suddenly got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, almost like something wasn't exactly right about this scene. 

"John?!" he calls out again, heading for the stairs. "Are you up there?!"

Suddenly, he heard a noise at the end of the hallway past the stairs. It was coming from the closet. 

"John? Are you in there?"

No response. Just a low rumbling noise that made him jump in fright. _What the hell?_ He took a few steps forward as the noise became louder and louder, reminding him of an oncoming freight train. Suddenly it stopped and an eerie silence fell over the house.

"John?" he asks again, his nerves getting the best of him as he suddenly felt his scalp prickling in fear. "Please tell me what's going on with you."

The door slowly opened up, and inside was a shadow of pure darkness, coming straight for him...

~*****~

Leaving the old abandoned house, I race back home through the fog with my mind racing a million miles a minute. It was just past midnight now which meant there would only be six more hours of nighttime to do this. I have to act fast. I have to find Freddie. I have to face _him_. I have to beat _him_. _I love you, Freddie and I'm going to save you._

Pulling up into the drive, I'm surprised to see my uncles car parked out front and I begin to wonder what the hell he's doing here so late at night. I knew from experience that my uncle was always in bed at an early hour or else he'd be cranky as all bloody hell if he didn't get the right amount of sleep.

Jumping out of the car, I quickly made my way across the drive and up to the front door. Inside, the foyer was dark and silent. I could've sworn I left all the lights on when I left the house with Veronica.

"Uncle Billy?!" I call out.

No response. I dash around each room on the ground floor, switching on lights to chase away the shadows and darkness before taking the stairs two at a time. Once every light was turned back on for every floor, I hurry back downstairs and continue to search for my uncle, but he's nowhere to be seen. Panic threatened to overtake me at the possible thought that...

_No, not him too!_

"Oi! Uncle Billy?!" I call out again in desperation.

Still no response came and terror gripped at my heart.

"Oh my god, _he_ took him..." I breathe out, realization hitting me.

The thought of losing another loved one nauseated me to the point of another oncoming panic attack. But I had to swallow it all down and do what had to be done. I had to face it. I had to face _him_.

_Are you sure you can do this, Johnny Boy?_ the voice asks. _You've been hiding from him for a long time now...a very, very long time. You sure you're up for this? Especially right now in your coked up state?_

"Shut the fuck up," I say out loud. "You don't even matter anymore."

The voice says nothing else so I immediately get to work on gathering all the tools I need in order to do this. Hammer, nails, power drill, a nail gun, and by pure luck, I had plenty of floorboards that my uncle hadn't used yet. There were closets, cabinets, and cupboards all over the house which made up possible entry ways for _him_. They needed to be sealed up. I start downstairs, the first one being the storage closet underneath the staircase where my father shut me inside of, followed by the hallway closet where I had been brutally attacked. The kitchen came next but since the cabinet doors had all been torn off by my uncle's remodeling, all that was left in this part of the house was the walk in food pantry.

Every closed door that I went near filled me with anxiety, filling my head with images of the Boogeyman jumping out and snatching me up the same way he had done to my father all those years ago. The job had to be done though. I couldn't stop now. I had to be brave.

Finishing with the downstairs area, I started on my parents old room, my sisters room, the master bedroom, and the two guest bedrooms as well as the attic door. The more I did, the more I began to sweat, but I kept going, determined to get this done and over with. Stopping would only slow me down more and there were only a few hours left until sunrise.

Once finished, I made my way towards the one room I've always dreaded of going back into, the place where it all first started, and that was my old bedroom at the end of the hallway. With a deep breath, I open the door. The room was dark, quiet, and cast in shadow by the full moon that shone through the open window. Not much was in here anymore except for my old twin sized bed, my nightstand table which still sat in the same spot, my desk where I sat and did homework every night, and a small bookshelf with a collection of dusty comic books. Wedged in between my nightstand and bookshelf sat a wooden baseball bat. Atop my desk was an old robe and a pair of jeans I had outgrown long ago. And there at the foot of my bed, the old nebula ball I always found comfort in.

So many memories came flooding back as I stood in the middle of the quiet room, looking around at all the things from my youth. Now that I was done with sealing everything off in the house, I could once again hear the wind from outside, rattling against the window, and the settling noises of the house itself.

Looking around made me realize I had suffered quite a traumatic childhood from witnessing Robert drown in the bath to seeing my father get killed right in front of me. After they died, I was pretty much taking care of my sister when my mum began to go downhill and started abusing alcohol. Then once she started abusing drugs, our aunt and uncle had us removed from here and gave us a new home. My childhood had basically ended inside of this room with unfinished business. But tonight, that was all about to change.

Grabbing my desk that had been shoved away into another corner of the room, I drag it to the center and position it to where it faces the open closet. I drill it down into the wooden floor to ensure that it doesn't move from it's spot. I then take a seat, and placing my arms on the armrests, I sit back and stare straight ahead into the closet. I keep my breathing steady and focus on the shadowy darkness in front of me as I wait for the bastard to come out and show his ugly arse. _Come on out and face me you coward._

I continue to wait, glaring into the darkness ahead, my blood singing through my veins from the effects of Freddie's coke which keeps me alert. After awhile, the shadows within start to change and take shape before my very eyes. I tense up, my heart pounding away inside of my chest, my eyes wide as I can't seem to look away to what's happening right in front of me.

_"He's waiting,"_ a child's voice whispers to me, startling me a bit as I look around. _"You have to go in..."_

Seeing no one else in the room with me, I swallow nervously and look back into the closet, the shadows now forming some sort of dark swirling abyss. It seemed to be waiting for me, inviting me in. The voice was right.

_I've got to go in and face him. I've got to save my uncle. I've got to save Freddie..._

*****

**Hehehe.** 😜😁


	17. He's Dead Because Of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp we're nearing the end and I hurt my own feelings writing out a certain part to this chapter and I cried, hahaha. 😅 Anyways enjoy and excuse mistakes I don't catch in proofreading and please don't kill me for what's about to happen, LOL! 😂 K, bye. *runs away*

My heart hammering inside of my chest, I force myself to stand up from the chair on shaky legs, briefly wondering if I should've perhaps brought a weapon with me. But what kind of weapon? I had no clue how one hurts the Boogeyman and that's even if he could be hurt at all. He was made up of a malevolent shadow of darkness. It suddenly made me wonder how exactly would I beat him. Would I be able to stand up to him? Could I really face him? Every possible thought of what I was about to encounter terrified me to no end.

My hands began to shake in terror, my palms slick with sweat as I took deep breaths. With every step I took towards the abyss, I wanted so desperately to just run away from here and never come back, but I knew if I didn't do this now, I'd never see Freddie again and I'll spend the rest of my life afraid of the dark, afraid of the shadows. I had to do this.

I step inside, my hand trembling as I slowly close the door behind me while keeping my eyes on the abyss. The door clicks shut, bathing the closet in pure darkness and silence, and I wait a few seconds for my eyesight to adjust. After a moment, I see the swirling void shift and change shape, exploding into vivid colours of purple, blue, green, red, and violet. I stare in pure awe and amazement by the incredible sight in front of me. It reminds me so much of the supernovas Brian always show us in photographs, and while Roger and Freddie never seemed to care for the curly haired guitarists love for space and science of the unknown, it's always fascinated me greatly.

Taking a deep breath, I step toward the abyss and go in. Similar to what happened back at the motel that brought me back here, I suddenly feel like I'm falling through the air again, falling into nothingness as my body falls downwards in a weightless state. I see nothing but the supernova colours around me as I continue to fall.

Then there's a moment of darkness and I'm laying down in a narrow space. I feel soft carpeting underneath me. _Where the bloody hell am I?_ After a moment, I realize I'm looking at box springs under a bed. A dust ruffle hung down, letting in a small sliver of soft lighting. I crawl forward on my stomach, the bed scraping against my back. I could smell the dust in the fibers of the soft carpeting and feel the weight of the bed above me. The carpet looked very familiar.

Finally I emerge from under the bed to see that I am back in the motel room once again, the one where Freddie and I had been, the one Veronica and I visited. The sheets scattered from our sex and where we laid together in the afterglow were still the same way with the box of tissues. Freddie's floral shirt and dress pants, scented with his cologne, still lay in a pile at the foot of the bed and his boxers were still draped over the lampshade, creating mood lighting for a long intimate night together that never happened. The bottle of Moët & Chandon he brought with him was once again still sat on the table where I had placed it, and Freddie's shoes and suitcase still sat by the door. Then lastly, wisps of steam billowed out from underneath the closed washroom door where I could hear running water. _Wait...running water and steam?_

I stand up on unsteady feet as I look around, completely thrown for a loop and wondering if any of this was real or not.

_"Deaky darling, what's taking you so long?"_ I hear Freddie call out to me over the sound of the running water. _"Get your cute little arse in here."_

"Freddie?" I say, slowly walking towards the closed washroom door.

Receiving no reply, I reach my hand out and turn the doorknob. Clouds of steam greet me then clear as I open the door. The drinks I dropped are no longer on the tiled floor. However I still see no sign of Freddie in the tub or anywhere else in the small washroom. I move closer and look down into the water, disappointment welling up inside of me at the possible thought that I'd be given an answer to all this and be given the truth into why all of this is happening. Maybe I was already too late.

Closing my eyes with a heavy sigh of defeat, my whole body tired and worn out, I lean over the tub and grip onto the edge of it. _What the bloody hell am I supposed to do now? Where do I go from here?_

"Freddie, please come back to me," I whisper into the tub. "Please, I need you. I love you so much, please come back. God in Heaven...please help me."

For the first time in my life, I suddenly find myself praying and wishing for something to be shown to me, to give me the truth. I keep my eyes closed, the ancient bible verses written on the walls of the abandoned house flashing before my eyes as the voice of Tim's dad recites them, and I hear his voice in my mind. My lips move to his voice, and I hear myself reciting each verse in some bizarre ancient language I know nothing about.

The sound of rushing water coming from the faucet suddenly snapped me out of the hypnotic state I was in. My eyes shoot open and I watch as the tub quickly fills with more water before turning a dark murky colour. It fills up to the brim, and then the faucet stopped, and all was quiet once again. Seemingly hypnotized, I stare down into the strange looking water, my breathing shallow, steady, eyes wide as I lean my face closer to the dark rippling surface. I reach out a hand toward it and two hands burst through the surface, thrusting upwards at me.

_What the?!_ I scream and slip on the wet tiled floor as I try to back away. My knee slams into the side of the porcelain tub, sending excruciating shock waves of pain through my entire leg.

A figure shoots out from the waters dark surface, it's hands grabbing at me. I quickly crawl away, my back against the washroom wall, my eyes wide to the horrors in front of me as the figure splashes and flails around, shrieking in agony, gasping and choking for air, and it takes me a split second to realize who it is.

"Freddie!" I scream, quickly crawling towards the bathtub.

I reach out for him but something pulls him back under the surface. I lean over the edge of the tub, my arms underneath the dark water as I blindly search for him while splashing water everywhere.

"Freddie?!" I cry out, continuing my search in the seemingly bottomless tub.

I search for him desperately, my heart pounding away like mad inside my chest. _No! Please come back to me!_

"FREDDIE?!" I cry out again, my breathing ragged.

Suddenly, my fingers touch his hand underneath the water. Hope surges through me, my heart jumping, and grabbing onto both of his arms, I grunt as I pull him upwards from the dark surface. His eyes are closed and he's limp in my arms as I lift him up and drag him out of the bathtub.

"Oi come on, Freddie!" I shout, laying him down on the floor while slapping at his wet face. "Wake up!"

He doesn't respond and I continue trying everything to get him to open his eyes.

"Come on now, wake up!" I scream in desperation as I pound my fists against his chest. "Freddie, please!"

_Oh God, please no! No, no, no! Please don't fucking do this to me now! You can't be dead!_

"God...!" I gasp out, my throat tightening, my voice failing me as hot tears spill down my cheeks. "...dammit!"

I squeeze my eyes shut, gasping out gut wrenching sobs as I cling to Freddie's body and bury my face in his neck. I can't even describe the pain I'm in. I feel like I can't breathe and I want to die. I want all of this to just end. I just want to wake up from this horrible nightmare. _Why couldn't the Boogeyman just take me instead?_

_He's dead because of you, Johnny Boy. Just like Robert._

The voice only makes me cry harder, making me realize I had failed in my mission and this was all my fault. This was my punishment for that night he drowned right before my eyes when I was two years old. I stood there and did nothing, watching him thrash around in the water trying to breathe, trying to break free as the Boogeyman held him under until the bubbles stopped. And when my parents eventually came in to see what all the commotion was about, and they saw him, all I could do was watch as my mum and father tried desperately to bring him back while Julie screamed and cried at the doorway.

_You can't be dead, Freddie...you just can't be. I refuse to accept that you're gone. None of this is real. Soon I'll wake up and we'll be together again in each other's arms._

I kiss his cold wet cheek as I rock him back and forth in my arms. "I love you Freddie...please wake up."

The sound of water splashing and churning catches my attention, and I look up just in time to see a second figure, the Boogeyman warped in shadow and wet from the dark water, erupt from the dark surface of the bathtub. He come at me full force, and I lose my hold on Freddie as I'm knocked backwards into the wall. Pain explodes through my head as it smacks hard against the wall with a sickening crack, momentarily disorienting me. I feel something wet and warm trickling down the back of my head which throbs in pain, and reaching back, my hand comes back covered in dark red blood.

I look away from my hand, the Boogeyman now hovering close above Freddie, it's shadowy face evil and dark.

"Leave him alone, you bloody fucking bastard!" I scream angrily at him as tears continue to stream down my face. "You can't have him and you can't take him away from me, just leave him the bloody hell alone!"

The Boogeyman lets out a deep angry growl then turned it's head towards the open doorway of the washroom. _No._ A surge of adrenaline courses through me, my instincts kicking in to protect, and leaping to my feet, I charge at him. With unseen force, I'm sent backwards again and I lose my footing on the soaked floor, landing flat on the tiles. I turn my head, my eyes widening as I watch the Boogeyman lift Freddie's limp body off the floor with little ease and dart from the washroom. _NO!_

I quickly push myself to my feet, using the tub's edge with a bloody hand to help me up, and I chase after him into the main room just in time to see the closet door slam shut. I bolt over, throwing open the door. I jump in and fall onto a floor. It takes me a moment to realize I'm back in my childhood home again, in front of the closet just past the staircase.

I wipe away the angry tears from my eyes and look around in a complete daze, my gut twisting and turning in dread. No sign of the Boogeyman or Freddie.

"John, please tell me what's going on with you," I hear my uncle say.

I spin around and see him staring in wide eyed horror at me.

"Uncle Billy," I breathe out in a shaky voice.

Then his hand swung into view, and he was holding the nail gun I had used earlier.

"Uncle Billy, no!" I shout, holding out my hands to shield myself. "It's me, John!"

He aims it at me and I dive out of the way as he repeatedly fires nails into the open closet, and I finally see what he's shooting at. I hear a loud angry snarl and the Boogeyman bursts out from the darkness of the closet, heading straight for my uncle who screams in fear and throws down the nail gun. He turns and runs down the hallway, both of them disappearing around the corner.

I jump to my feet at the sound of roaring and my uncle's high pitched terrified screams as he's violently thrown around from room to room like a rag doll, and by the time I reach him, he's already on the floor of the foyer. The plastic sheeting that was once hanging up was now tightly wrapped around his head like a cocoon. Where his mouth was, the plastic was indented as he tried to breathe.

"Uncle Billy, it's me, it's John Deacon!" I yell. "Can you hear me?!"

His fearful whimpers were muffled as he nodded his head and grabbed at my hand, squeezing it tightly in acknowledgement and desperation. I realize I have time and I need to do something quick before it comes back. I try tearing away at the plastic myself, but it wouldn't give. It was wrapped much too tightly around his head and my fingers were too shaky and slick with sweat. _Fucking hell, what do I do?!_

I quickly scan my eyes around the room and spot a utility knife sitting on top of an unopened can of paint. I run over and grab it, then return to my uncle's side once more.

"Hang on, I'm gonna cut this off you, alright?!" I say, earning a nod from him. "Just hold still!"

I wipe the tears and sweat from my face, my mind racing and heart beating in complete panic as I begin to wonder just how the fuck I'm going to cut him out of the plastic without seriously harming him. At last I find a good enough spot to cut that looked relatively safe, but before I was able to do anything, my uncle screamed as I felt a presence behind me. I nervously look over my shoulder. Out of nowhere, the Boogeyman suddenly yanked my screaming uncle out from underneath me and dragged him down the hallway by his ankles.

"NOOOOOO!" I scream, running after him back towards the closet past the stairs, my uncles muffled screaming echoing throughout the entire room before they both disappear into nothingness.

I race inside after them, swirling darkness greeting me as I jump in and fall out into an unfamiliar hallway of someone's home. But the voice I hear coming from the bedroom down the hall is one I recognize all too well. _Veronica..._

_"Thank you,"_ I hear her say after breathing out a sigh. _"...Yeah. Bye."_

I hear what sounds like a phone being hung back on a receiver, followed by a low growling sound at the bottom of the staircase. My eyes widen, shivers running down my spine as I turn my head and look over the railing where I see _him_ waiting for her. He glances up at me, a smile of pure evil upon his shadowy face, his eyes red and menacing. Footsteps approach the staircase landing and looking over, I see Veronica freeze in place, her eyes widening towards the bottom of the stairs, her mouth dropping open in shocked disbelief.

_What are ya gonna do now, Johnny Boy?_ the voice taunts me.

The Boogeyman lets out an unearthly ear piercing screech and charges for her, and I spring into action...


	18. The Final Showdown

"Ronnie, watch out!" I yell.

I run towards Veronica, who doesn't seem to notice me until I grab onto her and she screams as I push her into the bedroom where we both fall to the floor. I slam the door shut with my foot and reach up to lock it from the inside.

"What the bloody hell was that thing?!" she demands, panic evident in her voice. "What's happening, John?!"

"Everything's going to be alright, I won't let him take you away, I promise," I say to her in as much of a calm voice I can muster. "I'm going to stop this. I have to go after him. He's leading me somewhere and if I'm not around, he won't bother you, ok?"

"John, what was that thing?" she asks in between heavy panting breaths.

I barely hear her as I yank open her closet door only to see just clothes hanging up and pairs of shoes in a neat line on the floor.

"I...I don't understand this," I say.

"Understand what?" she asks in confusion.

Just as I was about to answer her, she was suddenly dragged by her ankles, and pulled underneath her bed. She screamed and I dove forward where I grabbed onto both of her arms. I held on with all my might and felt myself get dragged along the carpet with her towards the underside of her bed which looked like a maw of pure darkness, ready to swallow the both of us up.

Grunting and pulling back from the strong unseen force, I brace myself against the bed's leg, determined to not let go of her. _I'm stronger than you! You can't can't have her you bastard!_

"John!" Veronica cries.

"I've got you, I won't let go!" I promise.

"John, help me!" she screams in sheer terror.

"I've got you!" I grunt as I fight against the powerful force.

I pull and pull with all the strength I have as waves of adrenaline course through me, my shoulders and back straining against the effort, causing beads of sweat to run down my face. I could feel his resistance. The shadow man hated losing. He was a stubborn bastard and wasn't going to back down from this at all. _Well two can play at this bloody game._

I pull harder, groaning from the strain on my back. I feel Veronica slide towards me a bit. _Yes, come on!_ I squeeze my eyes shut, yelling from the effort, refusing to give up on this fight, and I pulled until I felt her coming my way. By now she was sobbing and screaming, pleading for me not to let go of her.

"John, please!" she wails in between her tears. "Please don't let go of me!"

Finally, I manage to break her free of the Boogeyman's grip, and I'm knocked backwards as Veronica flies out from underneath the bed and falls into my arms. I envelop her in a protective embrace and roll us away from the dangers of the bed. I quickly get us to our feet, my arms still around her, and we stand there for a moment, catching our breaths and holding on to one another as if we were the last two human beings left alive on Earth. I briefly had a fucked up thought in the back of my mind that maybe we were the last ones left. Maybe the Boogeyman killed every last human in the entire world and Veronica and I were the only two left, destined to fight for our survival until the day we eventually die.

At this moment though, I also felt an enormous sense of relief flood through me that I was able to save one person from this nightmare. I wasn't too late this time.

"Oh my god, what was that?" she whimpers, tightly clinging to me.

"Shhh, it's ok now," I whisper to her, rubbing circles on her back in a comforting gesture.

A loud angry snarling screech broke the silence as the Boogeyman erupted from the darkness underneath the bed, reaching out for us with it's shadowy clawed hands, determined to snatch his prize up. But before I could move us away, he succeeded in his mission by grabbing onto both of us. Veronica and I screamed as we were thrown to the floor and dragged across the floor and underneath the bed where we fall out through a door into my old childhood bedroom. I hear someone else scream in surprise as Veronica and I land on the floor with a thud.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck were you two doing in there this whole time?!" I hear Roger screech out. "You fucking scared the shit out of me!"

 _Wait what the hell is Roger doing here?_ I look up to see him sat down at the foot of my old bed, playing around with the contained electricity inside of my nebula ball. Everything else, including the chair I had drilled down into the floor, was the same.

"What are you doing here?" I ask in confusion.

"Well hello there, who's this?" the blonde asks, smiling at Veronica.

"Roger, there's no time for introductions, you need to get out of here right now, it's not safe!" I tell him.

The drummer frowns. "What?"

"Please just listen to him!" Veronica says to him urgently, pulling him towards the open doorway.

"What the bloody hell are you two on about?" Roger asks confused.

"Who's in here?" I hear Brian say as he walks through the door, his eyes widening when he see's me. "John, where's Freddie?"

"I-I-I don't know," I stutter.

"John, I won't ask you again, now where is he and what have you done?!" he shouts angrily, quickly approaching me. "We found out about a transaction he made on a motel room with both your names on the bloody activity log, and when we got there, the door was open and there was blood on the bathtub and wall of the washroom! Where's Freddie?! What the fuck have you done with my best friend?!"

"Bri, take it easy!" Roger shouts at him.

Brian suddenly charged forward and I felt nothing but pain as his fist connected with my face in a powerful blow. I fall to the floor in a daze and feel warm liquid oozing from my nose while tasting copper in my mouth.

"Brian, stop!" I hear Roger screech.

Veronica runs over to my side but Brian pushes her aside, cursing angrily as he bends down and tightly grabs hold of my shirt collar. He roughly hauls me to my feet, anger and fear written out all over his face.

"Please don't hurt him!" Veronica pleads.

"Brian!" Roger screeches again, attempting to pull him away from me. "Stop or I'm phoning the bloody police!"

"Go right ahead, see if I give a fuck!" the taller man yells angrily. "I'll just tell them what he did to Freddie! The evidence is back at the motel room and all over John!"

"We don't know if it was him for sure that did anything! Fucking let him go right now, Brian!"

I feel my eyes roll into the back of my head from exhaustion and lack of food and sleep, but I'm quickly brought back into the present as Brian shakes me awake.

"Tell me what you've done?!" he shouts in my face.

"That's it, I'm calling!" the drummer says.

Brian watches them both head for the door when all of a sudden, it slams shut with a loud bang.

"What the fuck?!" Roger screeches. "Oi, let us out!"

"Open the door!" Veronica screams.

"I'm bloody trying!"

_"He's coming for you, Johnny Boy. And you're all gonna die just like the rest of them."_

Over Roger and Veronica's panicked screaming, I start to giggle with the voice in my head and Brian slowly turns to look at me, his eyes wide with horror, realizing that I had spoken those words out loud.

"John, what the fuck?" he whispers in a fearful voice. "Who's coming?"

" _Him._ He's coming. Now let me go. I have to finish what I came here to do."

"Where's Freddie?" he asks, his voice shaky and breathing uneven as if he were close to tears.

_"He's fucking dead. He killed him..."_

"Who killed him?"

"The Boogeyman," I say. "Now let me go, Bri--"

"Liar!" he screams in my face. "You're a lying bastard! He's not real, John! You made it all up in that fucked up head of yours for attention!"

"He's real."

"Bullshit!" he argues. "He's not real, John! When will you grow the fuck up and get that through your bloody head?!"

"Let me go--"

My words were cut off by a low rumbling sound coming from the closed closet door that vibrated the wooden floor we stood on. Something about the quality of light in the room changed as well. Veronica and Roger stop pounding on the door of the bedroom, their breaths heavy. Brian and I both look over at the closet as the rumbling noise began to get louder and louder by each passing second, almost as if a freight train was quickly approaching the house.

"He's coming back," I warn him. "Please let me go, Brian!"

I twist away from his tight hold and push him back as he stares wide eyed and speechless at the closet door. I have to get them all away from me. I have to face _him_ one on one. The three stand close to each other with frightened looks on their faces.

I turn back towards the closet. "Come on out and show yourself, you bastard!" I challenge. "Let me see your ugly arse."

In response, the door suddenly burst open, and like being shot from a cannon, a huge blast of cold water came flying out towards me, filling the entire room. The others scream in terror from getting soaked, which are soon drowned out by the sound of rushing water, and I get knocked down as something solid crashes into me. My eyes nearly pop out of my head in total shock when I recognize the limp naked figure on the floor in front of me.

"Freddie?!" I gasp out, leaning over him.

The sight of him chilled me to the core, his beautiful body covered in multiple scratches and bite marks, no doubt done by _him._

"Oh my God!" Brian yells out breathlessly. "Freddie!"

Him and Roger come running over through the water, completely soaked.

The guitarist shakes him. "Freddie, can you hear me, open your eyes! John, where did these wounds all over his body come from?! Who fucking did this?!"

I try and answer him, but I'm in too much shock for my voice to work. All I can do is stare. Roger runs over with an old dusty blanket from the bed and places it over the front man while pushing me away.

"Roger, he's not breathing!"

"I'm starting CPR--"

The rumbling noises in the closet start up again, causing the whole entire room to shake like an earthquake.

"Roger, we don't have time, get the door!" Brian shouts in complete panic while lifting Freddie up into his arms.

"It still won't fucking open!" the drummer cries, kicking at it with his feet.

"JOHN!"

Shadows begin to form in the closet as a crackling flash goes off from my nebula ball giving off strong electrical currents. Blue and purple coloured lightning bolts form together within the closet. Behind me, I hear Brian, Roger, and Veronica screaming in fear to what's happening in front of me, and my eyes widen to a loud growling snarl as the Boogeyman finally presents himself in all his menacing form, and I instantly knew what had to be done. I close my eyes to the one weapon I hoped would work, the one my father taught me to use whenever I always felt scared or close to having panic attacks.

"One..." I begin in a shaky breath.

Images of me as a child, scared and hiding under the covers from that night flash before my eyes.

"Two..."

I see the menacing toy figure on my bedside table, staring down at me.

"Three..."

 _"Dad, he's in here, let me out!"_ I hear my younger self cry out.

"Four..."

My bathrobe and jeans draped over a chair, the darkness making it look like the silhouette of the shadow man sitting there, waiting for me.

"Five!"

Tim's voice with the question he had asked me from the other night entered my mind.

_"But what happens when you get to six?"_

I wasn't sure, but I was about to find out.

"Six!" I hiss, opening my eyes.

Shadows danced around the dark closet as everything else in the room goes completely quiet except for Roger, Brian, and Veronica's heavy breathing.

"Is he gone now?" Brian asks from behind me.

I stand up while keeping my eyes on the closet ahead, the baseball bat and the nebula ball appearing in my mind in a moment of clarity. _Of course, it all makes sense now._ Knowing what had to be done, I move over to the bed where my old baseball bat is.

"John?"

I wrap a hand around the bat and lift it from the same spot of where it's been all these years.

"Deaks, what are you doing?" Roger asks.

Back in front of the open closet, I wait with the baseball bat in my grasp, ready to strike, and a moment later, the Boogeyman pops out at me, roaring in anger. I quickly spin around and swing the bat at the glass nebula ball, shattering it to pieces. The Boogeyman screamed in super sonic high pitched agony as arcs of electricity shot out from the active ball, electrocuting us both. The force throws me backwards to the floor where I thrash and flail around in unbearable pain, my whole body seizing up against the electrical currents shooting through me. It ends when I suddenly drop the bat in the process, and I gasp for air, my chest and lungs burning from the aftershocks of being electrocuted.

In the center of my room, I could see that the Boogeyman reassembled himself and was now charging after Brian, Roger, and Veronica to take Freddie back from them who was trying to protect him.

"Leave him alone!" Roger screams at the Boogeyman over the high pitched roars. "John, do something!"

I had to put a stop to this...and fast. I jump to my feet, my whole body aching in protest and I grab my bathrobe off the desk, gripping it tightly as I bring out the utility knife from my pocket. The Boogeyman turned and charged towards me, his shadowy clawed hands reaching out to stop me.

"WATCH OUT!"

I feel something sharp pierce through my chest that takes my breath away as clawed hands wrap tightly around my throat, lifting me into the air. I cough and choke, struggling to break free from his hold. The Boogeyman looks up at me, growling and smiling evilly, his eyes glowing bright red. With what little strength I felt I had left, I returned his smile when I realized the bathrobe was still in my clutches.

"Go to hell!" I manage to gasp out, my breathing labored and heavy as I feel my mouth fill with blood.

I spit into his face of death, and digging my fingers into the thin material of the terrycloth robe, I pull with everything I have. The piece of clothing rips straight down the middle seam. The Boogeyman ripped apart as well, right down the middle.

Screeching in pain, he drops me to the floor, and a strong ferocious wind like that of a tornado picked up. Pieces of the shredded Boogeyman were sucked into a vortex from inside the closet, and so was everything else that was in close range of the open doorway. Including me. I fly through the air and manage to grab hold of the desk chair I drilled down into the floor. Brian, Roger, and Veronica who were all safe and huddled around each other in the far corner of the room, protecting themselves and Freddie against the current, screamed and yelled for me over the powerful wind to hold on. Even my mind was screaming at me to not let go. I hold on with all my might, determined to beat him once and for all.

Clothes, books, sheets and pillows from the bed, and my lamp take flight past me, disappearing into the massive swirling vortex. The bed starts to scrape along the wooden floor. I steal a glance behind me, my eyes widening to see the Boogeyman, angry as ever, fighting against the powerful pull of the wind, trying to advance on me. I knew if he got any closer, I'd be done for.

I watch as all the remnants of my childhood fly past me through the air, vanishing into the closet. The wind picked up with more speed and that's when my nightstand slid across the floor and crashed into the back of the chair. _Get it, John, get it!_ In a sudden burst of energy, I take one hand off the chair and pull open the top drawer, grabbing onto the creepy action figure that's been inside there all these years. _Yes!_

Over the wind, I heard the Boogeyman's shrill scream of pure anger as I raised my hand high that held the toy. The plastic figure was aged and felt brittle, almost like it would crumple in my grasp. I smash it against the top of the nightstand with all the strength I have left. It shatters like fine china, into millions of tiny pieces.

The Boogeyman's final high pitched screams of pain echoed loudly over the wind to the point where I was sure I would go deaf. Then, the closet door slammed shut and I fell to the floor. All was quiet, the strong winds now gone. I hear running footsteps approach me as I struggle in using the chair to get up. But I fall back down, exhausted. Everything hurts.

"John!" I hear Veronica say.

"F-F-Freddie...is he..." I start to say as I weakly roll over onto my back.

Veronica gasps and cradles my head in her lap while softly stroking my forehead. "John, don't move or you'll bleed out. Just stay still."

I turn my head towards the far corner to see Roger furiously working on Freddie while Brian stands by trying his best to help.

"Come! On! Freddie!" Roger yells in between chest pumps.

"Roger..."

"No! For fuck sake, breathe Freddie, come on now!"

_Please still be alive Freddie, please._

"You're! Not! Dead!"

_Please come back to us._

"Come on goddammit!" he screams, desperation in his voice.

"Freddie..." I cry out weakly, instantly fearing the worst.

In answer to my plead, the sound of spluttering and choking coughs suddenly filled the room as I see Freddie turn over and cough up a bunch of water.

"Oh bloody hell, thank you!"

"Easy now, you're ok, Fred."

Through the pain, I feel my heart swell with joy. My vision begins to darken as tears spill from my eyes.

"Where's...Deaky?" I hear him gasp out in between coughs.

"Shhh, just take it easy for a moment."

I hear more footsteps hurrying over towards me and Veronica, followed by Brian's frantic voice.

"John!"

I hear someone crying, but I don't know who it is.

"John, stay with me!"

My eyes start to close and I feel a soft hand on my cheek. Images of my mum's smiling face appear in front of me. She looks so beautiful in her white vintage nightgown. Her lovely raven hair and light brown eyes are the same as I remember. In her arms is a little boy. Stood next to her is my father, smiling and happy to see me. I feel at peace and safe now that I defeated the Boogeyman. Now I can dream.

~*****~

"Deaky?" I hear a soft voice say to me from far off.

_Freddie?_

"Can you open your eyes, darling?" he asks.

I'm laying down in something soft. I feel his soft hand in mine. _Oh, I love his hands. So beautiful. So lovely._

"Please open your eyes," he whispers. "I miss you, darling."

There's a sniffling noise as I feel his lips on my cheek and then a light weight on my chest with little sobbing whimpers. _Don't cry._

"I love you darling. Please open your eyes for me."

_I'm trying, Freddie._

I see bright light that burns for a second as I slowly force my eyes open to unfamiliar surroundings. Everything's blurry and I wait for my sight to adjust. I look around, white ceiling and white walls greet me once my vision focuses. I'm in what looks like a small hospital room with some wires attached to my left arm. Freddie is curled up next to me with his head resting on my chest. I can faintly smell his familiar scent of cologne. He's making little sniffling noises which makes me feel sad to hear. I've never heard him cry before.

I reach up with my left arm and place it on his head. "Don't cry, Freddie," I say in a raspy voice as I stroke his soft beautiful hair. _Shit, my voice is wrecked._

The front man sits up, his eyes wide as he turns to look at me and touches my face. "Deaky darling, you scared us all," he says.

I wipe his tears away and caress his beautiful face where I see he has bites marks that have healed over. "What happened?" I ask.

"Quite a lot," he says. "I didn't think any of that was real. But you've been out for almost two weeks now. We've all been so worried."

"I almost thought you were dead," I whisper.

"I thought you were as well with the injuries he caused you," he says, his dark brown eyes filled with worry. "Oh darling, I'm just so glad you're ok now."

He leans down and presses his lips to mine in a soft kiss. _Oh those lips._ I kiss him back, happy to have my best friend and lover in my arms again, happy that we made it out alive, and happy that I was able to defeat _him._ I wrap my arms around Freddie as tears spill from my eyes.

"I love you, Freddie," I breathe against his lips.

"I love you, too," he says. "And I'll always protect you, darling. Forever..."

The End ❤


End file.
